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The old order changes yielding place to new.
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And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old.
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The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.
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We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.
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Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle.
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Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him; and tho' he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
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And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.
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Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea.
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There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
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And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!
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I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save me lest I die?
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In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
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But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
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God and Nature met in light.
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If I make dark my countenance, I shut my life from happier chance.
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Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
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My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
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The thrall in person may be free in soul.
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Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
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As the husband is the wife is; thou art mated with a clown, As the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.
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Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.
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Faith lives in honest doubt.
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O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all; But her thou hast not know; for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.
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For always roaming with a hungry heart.