I have known more men destroyed by the desire to have wife and child and to keep them in comfort than I have seen destroyed by drink and harlots.

Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice?

Many times man lives and dies between his two eternities: that of race and that of Soul... A brief parting from those dear is the worst man has to fear... Though grave diggers' toil is long... They but thrust their buried men back in the human mind again.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?

I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.

There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met.

What made us dream that he could comb gray hair?