A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, but only to discover and to do, with cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
I am athirst for God, the living God.
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
There is but halting for the wearied foot; The better way is hidden. Faith hath failed; One stronger far than reason mastered her. It is not reason makes faith hard, but life.
Children bring their own love with them when they come.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.
I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven.
People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster, Nor long summer bide so late; And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster, For some things are ill to wait.
What is thy thought? There is no miracle? There is a great one, which thou hast not read, And never shalt escape. Thyself, O man, Thou art the miracle. Ay, thou thyself, Being in the world and of the world, thyself, Hast breathed in breath from Him that made the world. Thou art thy Father's copy of Himself,-- Thou art thy Father's miracle.
When I remember something which I had, But which is gone, and I must do without, I sometimes wonder how I can be glad, Even in cowslip time when hedges sprout; It makes me sigh to think on it,--but yet My days will not be better days, should I forget.
Tears are the showers that fertilize this world.
Yet there are some resting-places, / Life's untroubled interludes; / Times when neither past nor future / On the soul's deep calm intrudes.
Reign, and keep life in this our deep desireOur only greatness is that we aspire.
Quoth the Ocean, "Dawn! O fairest, clearest, Touch me with thy golden fingers bland; For I have no smile till thou appearest For the lovely land.
Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright, Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup, And hold to my two lips life's best of wine.
It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
How short our happy days appear! How long the sorrowful!
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
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