Think, In mounting higher, The angels would press on us, and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence.

• Who so loves believes the impossible.
• Think, In mounting higher, The angels would press on us, and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence.
• Since when was genius found respectable?
• Whoso loves, believes the impossible.
• Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true
• He said true things, but called them by wrong names.
• No man can be called friendless when he has God and the companionship of good books.