Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits;- on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

And each day brings it's pretty dust, Our soon-choked souls to fll And we forget because we must, And not because we will.

It is almost impossible to exaggerate the proneness of the human mind to take miracles as evidence, and to seek for miracles as evidence.

To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.

Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play, Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.

Culture, the acquainting ourselves with the best that has been known and said in the world, and thus with the history of the human spirit.

Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

Not a having and a resting, but a growing and becoming, is the character of perfection as culture conceives it.

For the creation of a masterwork of literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power of the moment, and the man is not enough without the moment.

It is so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, to have lived light in the spring, to have loved, to have thought, to have done.

Use your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged; practice what you know, and you shall attain to higher knowledge.

Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Still bent to make some port he knows not where, still standing for some false impossible shore.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.

Resolve to be thyself: and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery.

With aching hands and bleeding feet_x000D_ _x000D_ We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;_x000D_ _x000D_ We bear the burden and the heat_x000D_ _x000D_ Of the long day, and wish 'twere done._x000D_ _x000D_ Not till the hours of light return_x000D_ _x000D_ All we have built do we discern.

Saw life steadily and saw it whole.