 That best portion of a man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love. |
| How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold. |
| But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave. |
| The child is father of the man. |
| The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours. |
| The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants; and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this. |
| For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity. |
| The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly. |
| What we need is not the will to believe, but the wish to find out. |
| Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility. |
| That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind. |
| The things which I have seen I now can see no more. |
| Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future. |
| One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. |
| Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness. |
| I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. |
| Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. |
