The first and worst of all frauds is to cheat one's self.
My favoured temple is an humble heart.
The world is a great poem, and the world's The words it is writ in, and we souls the thoughts.
Lowliness is the base of every virtue, And he who goes the lowest builds the safest.
All things that speak of heaven speak of peace.
Let us think less of men and more of God.
Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.
Remember that thy heart will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears, and both leave loathsome furrows.
Mind and night will meet, though in silence, like forbidden lovers.
Joys Are bubble-like--what makes them bursts them too.
Could we but think with the intensity we love with, we might do great things.
None but the brave and beautiful can love.
Man is a military animal, glories in gunpowder, and loves parade.
Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.
He is a fool who is not for love and beauty. I speak unto the young, for I am of them and always shall be.
It is no great misfortune to oblige ungrateful people, but an unsupportable one to be forced to be under an obligation to a scoundrel.
Where doubt there truth is - 'tis her shadow.
The ground of all great thoughts is sadness.
The worst men often give the best advice. Our deeds are sometimes better than our thoughts.
Obey thy genius, for a minister it is unto the throne of fate. Draw to thy soul, and centralize the rays which are around of the Divinity.
Necessity, like electricity, is in ourselves and all things, and no more without us than within us.
Night comes, world-jewelled, . . . The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage War with the lines of Darkness; and the moon, Pale ghost of Night, comes haunting the cold earth After the sun's red sea-death--quietless.
The wind breathes not, and the wave Walks softly as above a grave.
The death-change comes. Death is another life. We bow our heads At going out, we think, and enter straight Another golden chamber of the king's Larger than this we leave, and lovelier. And then in shadowy glimpses, disconnect, The story, flower-like, closes thus its leaves. The will of God is all in all. He makes, Destroys, remakes, for His own pleasure, all.
The hero is the world-man, in whose heart One passion stands for all, the most indulged.
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