World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

A woman is always younger than a man at equal years.

He lives most life whoever breathes most air.

And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.

If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only.

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital.

Since when was genius found respectable?

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in it.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

Light tomorrow with today!

If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

Who so loves believes the impossible.

For tis not in mere death that men die most.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.

You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.

But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

My sun sets to raise again.

He said true things, but called them by wrong names.

What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?

God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Eyes of gentianellas azure Staring winking at the skies.

The Devils most devilish when respectable.

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.

The exchange of sympathy for gratitude is the most princely thing

You were made perfectly to be loved and surely I have loved you in the idea of you my whole life long.

How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort in a hospital.

Hurt a fly! He would not for the world: he's pitiful to flies even. Sing, says he, and tease me still, if that's your way, poor insect.

Light tomorrow with today.

I wish I were the lily's leaf To fade upon that bosom warm, Content to wither, pale and brief, The trophy of thy paler form.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

A good neighbor sometimes cuts your morning up to mince-meat of the very smallest talk, then helps to sugar her bohea at night with your reputation.

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears

God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, A gauntlet with a gift in 't.

Amazing how we can light tomorrow with today.

The critics could never mortify me out of heart, because I love poetry for its own sake, and, tho' with no stoicism and some ambition, care more for my poems than for my poetic reputation.

You were made perfectly to be loved “ and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

To insult someone we call him "bestial." For deliberate cruelty and nature, "human" might be the greater insult.