I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.

The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.

But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.

We live by admiration, hope and love.

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

That blessed mood in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world is lightened.