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What are ye orbs? The words of God? the Scriptures of the skies?
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The value of a thought cannot be told.
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The sun, centre and sire of light, The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.
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Death is another life.
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Look on the bee upon the wing 'mong flowers; How brave, how bright his life! then mark, him hiv'd, Cramp'd, cringing in his self-built, social cell, Thus it is in the world-hive; most where men Lie deep in cities as in drifts.
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Any heart turned God ward feels more joy In one short hour of prayer, than e'er was raised By all the feasts of earth since its foundation.
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Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.
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Mind and night will meet, though in silence, like forbidden lovers.
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Lips like rosebuds peeping out of snow.
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Be cheerful and grateful for the good that you have: do not brood over fond hopes unrealized until a chain is fastened on each thought and wound around the heart. Nature intended you to be the fountain-spring of cheerfulness and social life, and not the mountain of despair and melancholy.
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It is quite impossible to understand the character of a person from one action, however striking that action may be.
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Night comes, world-jewelled, . . . The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage War with the lines of Darkness; and the moon, Pale ghost of Night, comes haunting the cold earth After the sun's red sea-death--quietless.
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He hath no power that hath not power to use.
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It is no great misfortune to oblige ungrateful people, but an unsupportable one to be forced to be under an obligation to a scoundrel.
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The truth is perilous never to the true, Nor knowledge to the wise; and to the fool, And to the false, error and truth alike, Error is worse than ignorance.
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See the sun! God's crest upon His azure shield, the Heavens.
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The most common-place people become highly imaginative when they are in a passion. Whole dramas of insult, injury, and wrong pass before their minds,--efforts of creative genius, for there is sometimes not a fact to go upon.
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The measure of civilization in a people is to be found in its just appreciation of the wrongfulness of war.
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True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, The bended knee, the eye uplift; is all Which men need render; all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, A crow upon the sky.
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Imagination is the air of mind.
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All are of the race of God, and have in themselves good.
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Remember that thy heart will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears, and both leave loathsome furrows.
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Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
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What men call accident is God's own part.