But When We Are Following The Light,

Light-leaved Acacias, By The Door, Stood Up In Balmy Air, Clusters Of Blossomed Moonlight Bore, And Breathed A Perfume Rare.

Past Tears Are Present Strength.

Why Should My Love Be Powerless To Help Another?

All Haste Implies Weakness.

Better To Have The Poet's Heart Than Brain, Feeling Than Song.