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Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.
We are never happy: we can only remember that we were so once.
Winter does not work only on a broad scale; he is careful in trifles.
Yet through all, we know this tangled skein is in the hands of One who sees the end from the beginning; He shall yet unravel all.
The saddest thing that can befall a soul.
Is when it loses faith in God and woman.
- A Life Drama (sc. 12) [Faith]
A poem round and perfect as a star.
- A Life Drama (sc. 2) [Poetry]
In winter, when the dismal rain
Came down in slanting lines,
And Wind, that grand old harper, smote
His thunder-harp of pines.
- A Life Drama (sc. 2) [Winter]
Some books are drenched sands,
On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,
Like a wrecked argosy.
- A Life Drama (sc. 2) [Books]
Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
- A Life Drama (sc. 2, l. 225) [Martyrdom]
The sun was down,
And all the west was paved with sullen fire.
I cried, "Behold! the barren beach of hell
At ebb of tide."
- A Life Drama (sc. 4) [Sunset]
The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
- A Life Drama (sc. 8) [Evening]
Sweet April's tears,
Dead on the hem of May.
- A Life Drama (sc. 8, l. 65) [April]
The trees were gazing up into the sky,
Their bare arms stretched in prayer for the snows.
- A Life-Drama (sc. 2) [Trees]
Each time we love,
We turn a nearer and a broader mark
To that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.
- City Poems--A Boy's Dream [Sorrow]
We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.
- City Poems--A Boy's Poem (pt. III)
[Death : Forgetfulness]
If you wish to preserve your secret wrap it up in frankness.
- Dreamthorp--On the Writing of Essays
To our graves we walk
In the thick footprints of departed men.
- Horton (l. 570) [Death]
We have two lives;
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.
- Horton (l. 76) [Life]
We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold 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.
- Life Drama (sc. IV) [Meeting]
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