All governments, Books, customs, buildings, railways, ships, and all the stark realities that men have made, Are but imagination’s utterances.

Though Duty’s face is stern, her path is best: They sweetly sleep who die upon her breast.

Our yesterdays Are like a lonely and a ruined land Wherein a breeze of recollection sighs – A fading land to which is no return.

And once I knew a meditative rose That never raised its head from bowing down, Yet drew its inspiration from the stars. It bloomed and faded here beside the road, And, being a poet, wrote on empty air With fragrance all the beauty of its soul.

The noblest works of human art and pride show that their makers were not satisfied.

Behold the grapes and all the fruits that Autumn gives today, As robed in red and gold, she rules, the Empress of Decay!

Love is the key-note of the universe – The theme, the melody.

Life is the wave’s deep whisper on the shore Of a great sea beyond.

What do we plant when we plant the tree? We plant the ship that will cross the sea, we plant the mast to carry the sails, we plant the planks to withstand the gales – the keel, the keelson, and beam and knee – we plant the ship when we plant the tree.

A band of opals was around her neck, a hundred little worlds with central fires.