If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only.
Better farPursue a frivolous trade by serious means,Than a sublime art frivolously.
I give the fight up let there be an end A privacy an obscure nook for me I want to be forgotten even by God.
Just for a handful of silver he left us Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat.
And I breathe large at home. I drop my cloak,Unclasp my girdle, loose the band that tiesMy hair...now could I but unloose my soul!We are sepulchred alive in this close world,And want more room.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach
If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.
And yet, because I love thee, I obtainFrom that same love this vindicating grace,To live on still in love, and yet in vain
An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.
You're something between a dream and a miracle.
And each man stands with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can.
I only thoughtOf lying quiet there where I was thrownLike sea-weed on the rocks, and suffer herTo prick me to a pattern with her pin,Fibre from fibre, delicate leaf from leaf,And dry out from my drown...
Many a fervid man writes books as cold and flat as graveyard stones.
Until they are of the age to use the brain.
You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.
A woman's always younger than a man of equal years.
Open my heart and you will see Graved inside of it "Italy."
You have touched me more profoundly than I thought even you could have touched me - my heart was full when you came here today. Henceforward I am yours for everything.
It is rather whenWe gloriously forget ourselves, and plungeSoul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth--'Tis then we get the right good from a book.
Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God.