There Is Nothing Holier In This Life

Good-night! Good-night! As We So Oft Have Said Beneath This Roof At Midnight, In The Days That Are No More, And Shall No More Return. Thou Hast But Taken Up Thy Lamp And Gone To Bed; I Stay A Little Longer, As One Stays To Cover Up The Embers That Still Burn.

Be Still, Sad Heart! And Cease Repining; Behind The Clouds Is The Sun Still Shining; Thy Fate Is The Common Fate Of All, Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

Many Have Genius, But, Wanting Art, Are Forever Dumb. The Two Must Go Together To Form The Great Poet, Painter, Or Sculptor.

The Spirit-world Around This World Of Sense Floats Like An Atmosphere, And Everywhere Wafts Through These Earthly Mists And Vapours Dense A Vital Breath Of More Ethereal Air.

It Is Folly To Pretend That One Ever Wholly Recovers From A Disappointed Passion. Such Wounds Always Leave A Scar. There Are Faces I Can Never Look Upon Without Emotion, There Are Names I Can Never Hear Spoken Without Almost Starting.