Over my head his arm he flung, Against the world.

My sun sets to rise again.

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

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

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.

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

It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.

Hand Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good friendship, And great hearts expand And grow one in the sense of this world's life.

Our identity rests in God's relentless tenderness for us revealed in Jesus Christ.

As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation.

That is love, to give away everything, to sacrifice everything, without the slightest desire to get anything in return.3

For every traveller who has any taste of his own, the only useful guidebook will be the one which he himself has written.

When we love the planet, we love ourselves, and when we love ourselves, we love the planet.

It is the mark of an educated mind to rest satisfied with the degree of precision which the nature of the subject admits and not to seek exactness where only an approximation is possible.

Virtually anything is more stimulating than conversations with strangers at social gatherings.

Heroes are made in the hour of defeat

The happiness and unhappiness of the rational, social animal depends not on what he feels but on what he does; just as his virtue and vice consist not in feeling but in doing.

You need anything else... You to touch me like I matter.