“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for right.I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.”

“Yes," I answered you last night;"No," this morning, sir, I say.Colours seen by candlelightWill not look the same by day.”

“I am one who could have forgotten the plague, listening to Boccaccio's stories; and I am not ashamed of it.”

“My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.”

“Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.”

“If you desire faith, then you have faith enough.”

“An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.”

“Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.”

“What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality?”

“You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.”

“The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'”