Witch, scholar, poet, dreamer, and the rest...

Beloved, let us live so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our work.

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

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

Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.

I begin to think that none are so bold as the timid, when they are fairly roused.

Good aims not always make good books.

He lives most life whoever breathes most air.

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.

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

The world of books is still the world.

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

True knowledge comes only through suffering.

No man can be called friendless who has God and the companionship of good books.

Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

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

With my lost saints - I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life! - and if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

The great chasm between the thing I say, & the thing I would say, wd be quite dispiriting to me, in spite even of such kindnesses as yours, if the desire did not master the despondency.

The wisest word man reaches is the humblest he can speak.

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

His answer was - not the common gallantries which come so easily to the lips of me - but simply that he loved me - he met argument with fact. He told me - that with himself also, the early freshness of youth had gone by, & that throughout it he had not been able to love any woman - that he loved now for the first time & the last.

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

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

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

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

What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.

I am one who could have forgotten the plague, listening to Boccaccio's stories; and I am not ashamed of it.

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

You have touched me more profoundly than I thought even you could have touched me - my heart was full when you came here today. Henceforward I am yours for everything.

What is art but the life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?

Never say No when the world says Aye.

Italy/Is one thing, England one.

Light tomorrow with today.

A cheerful genius suits the times, / And all true poets laugh unquenchably / Like Shakespeare and the gods.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

Two human loves make one divine.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

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

Did you think of that? Who burns his viol will not dance, I know. To cymbals, Romney.

Who so loves believes the impossible.

For tis not in mere death that men die most.

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.

Men could not part us with their worldly jars, Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend; Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars: And, heaven being rolled between us at the end, We should but vow the faster for the stars.

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

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

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God.

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

The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise, I barter for curl upon that mart.

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