Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.
It's certain there is no fine thing Since Adam's fall but needs much laboring.
Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
Everything in nature is resurrection.
O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.