I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
The healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.
Learn to live, and live to learn, Ignorance like a fire doth burn, Little tasks make large return.
And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy's bonfire spread.
By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
He teaches best, Who feels the hearts of all men in his breast, And knows their strength or weakness through his own.
The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.
Pens carry further than rifled cannon.
Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
Peace the offspring is of Power.
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
To learn by observation is traveling, people must also bring knowledge with them.
Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
Those who would attain to any marked degree of excellence in a chosen pursuit must work, and work hard for it, prince or peasant.
Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
It is an agreeable and yet a painful sense of novelty to stand for the first time in the midst of a people whose language and manners are different from one's own.
But who will watch my lilies, When their blossoms open white? By day the sun shall be sentry, And the moon and the stars by night!
Love is better than Fame.
Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.
So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to us in the Venus de Medici.
Sometimes an hour of Fate's serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
To Truth's house there is a single door, which is experience.
Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
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