Can I ever know you / Or you know me?

O beauty, are you not enough; why am I crying after love.

Joy was a flame in me Too steady to destroy. Lithe as a bending reed, Loving the storm that sways her

Take love when love is given, But never think to find it A sure escape from sorrow Or a complete repose.

Call him wise whose actions, words, and steps are all a clear because to a clear why.

Oh who can tell the range of joy or set the bounds of beauty?

The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you.

One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me.

Now at last I have come to see what life is, Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun, And the brave victories that seem so splendid Are never really won.

Beauty, more than bitterness, makes the heart break.

I shall not let a sorrow die Until I find the heart of it, Nor let a wordless joy go by Until it talks to me a bit.

Wisdom is not acquired save as the result of investigation.

Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.

My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain.

I found more joy in sorrow than you could find in joy.

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.

What we have never had, remains; It is the things we have that go.