
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.

Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'...

I am a part of all that I have met.

I will drink life to the lees.

A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed.

Sometimes the heart sees what's invisible to the eye.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.

Come friends, it's not too late to seek a newer world.

Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die

The quiet sense of something lost

There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.

I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul

I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

The shell must break before the bird can fly.

The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait.

So runs my dream, but what am I? An infant crying in the night An infant crying for the light And with no language but a cry.

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.

O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

So sad, so fresh the days that are no more.

So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.

Life is brief but love is LONG .

For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.

The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but on the mastery of his passions.

Forgive my grief for one removed Thy creature whom I found so fair I trust he lives in Thee and there I find him worthier to be loved.

So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not

So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die.

It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.

If you don't concentrate on what you are doing then the thing that you are doing is not what you are thinking.

For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.

I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within,

The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?

Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.

Love is the only gold.

Shall love be blamed for want of faith?

The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott

I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! As tho’ to breathe were life!

That which we are, we are.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone.

And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be!

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

The year is dying in the night.

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let thy voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.

My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.

For men may come and men may go, but I go on forever...

Virtue - to be good and just - Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell. - The Vision of Sin

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees.

And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?

For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear each other speak.

What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?

I follow up the quest despite of day and night and death and hell.

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?

Not once or twice in our fair island-story, The path of duty was the way to glory.

A beam in darkness: let it grow.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall...

We needs must love the highest when we see it.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.

Who is wise in love, love most, say least.

She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room

But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last -- far off -- at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.

Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

She saw the snowy poles of moonless Mars, That marvellous round of milky light Below Orion, and those double stars Whereof the one more bright Is circled by the other

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Brothers in Art: a friendship so complete

This madness has come on us for our sins.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.

Seal'd her minefrom her first sweet breath Mine, and mine by right, from birth till death Mine, mine-our fathers have sworn.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, too full for sound or foam, when that which drew from out the boundless deep turns again home.

Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone

The deep moans round with many voices.

In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All around the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.

The old order changes, giving place to the new... least on good custom should corrupts the world.

Yet I thought I saw her stand, A shadow there at my feet, High over the shadowy land.

Maud in the light of her youth and her grace, Singing of Death, and of Honor that cannot die, Till I well could weep for a time so sordid and mean, And myself so languid and base.

I fain would follow love, if that could be; I needs must follow death, who calls for me; Call and I follow, I follow! let me die.

May make my heart as a milestone, set my face as a flint, cheat and be cheated, and die: who knows? we are ashes and dust.