We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding something outside us.

Our words must seem to be inevitable.

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.

When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face.

Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.

Hearts with one purpose alone/Through summer and winter seem/Enchanted to a stone/To trouble the living stream.

Before me floats an image, man or shade, / Shade more than man, more image than a shade.