- We hear the wail of the remorseful winds In their strange penance. And this wretched orb Knows not the taste of rest; a maniac world, Homeless and sobbing through the deep she goes.
- The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night; The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, silence and the wakeful stars.
- Time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine.
- The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.
- Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
- In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
- A poem round and perfect as a star.
- Some books are drenched sands On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps, Like a wrecked argosy.
- The saddest thing that befalls a soul Is when it loses faith in God and woman.
- We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet; One little hour! And then, away they speed On lonely paths, through mist and cloud and foam, To meet no more.
- Each time we love, We turn a nearer and a broader mark To that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.
- Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
- Everything is sweetened by risk.
- In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place to-day, it is vain to seek it there to-morrow. You can not lay a trap for it.