It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.
Make us happy and you make us good.
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.
We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
Youth means love, Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.
What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.
Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?
Man seeks his own good at the whole world's cost.
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.
If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed, So shall they be fulfilled.
Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before Love, - Only sleep.
Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?
Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.
Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
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