Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.

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!

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

No, when the fight begins within himself, A man's worth something.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

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

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

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

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

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.

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

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?

Faultless to a fault.

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.

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

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

It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.

Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts.

Oh, the little more, and how much it is! And the little less, and what worlds away.