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God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.
Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
Oh, to be in England now that April's there.
Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
A minute's success pays the failure of years.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.
If you get simple beauty and naught else, you get about the best thing God invents.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
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