The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
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.
Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.
Love is energy of life.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on.
The world and life's too big to pass for a dream
Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.
When is man strong until he feels alone?
No thought which ever stirred A human breast should be untold.
There's a new tribunal now higher than God's -The educated man's!
The heavens and earth stay as they were; my heart Beats as it beat: the truth remains the truth.
Faultless to a fault.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
I have lived, And seen God's hand thro a life time, And all was for the best.
All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.
Escape me? Never, beloved! While I am I, and you are you.
Paracelsus At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages’ way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out — not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.
But God has a few of us to whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.
It 's wiser being good than bad; It 's safer being meek than fierce; It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched.
Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.
When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.
There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness;....and, to know, rather consists in opening out a way where the imprisoned splendor may escape, then in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.
At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.
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