I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

Oh, to be in England now that April's there.

Love is energy of life.

What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

Never the time and the place and the loved one all together!

What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

Ambition is not what man does... but what man would do.

I count life just a stuff to try the soul's strength on.

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

Faultless to a fault.

You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!

A minute's success pays the failure of years.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?

Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man Would do!

So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee.

Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.

White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so: life's business being just the terrible choice.

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp. Or what's a heaven for?

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety, but never reach the top.

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

Perhaps one has to be very old before one learns to be amused rather than shocked.

God is the perfect poet.

My sun sets to rise again.

What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Grow old with me. The best is yet to be.

The best is yet to be.

A minute’s success pays the failure of years.

Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.

Best be yourself imperial plain and true

Where the apple reddens never pry lest we lose our Edens Eve and I.

Where the heart lies let the brain lie also.

Grow old with me The best is yet to be.

Grow old along with me the best is yet to be.

The great mind knows the power of gentleness.

Grow old with me the best is yet to be.

Motherhood All love begins and ends there.