Life and Existence

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth

Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest.

Can storied urn or animated bust

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

I … chose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would wear well.

The doctor found, when she was dead,—

Man wants but little here below,

Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,

How happy he who crowns in shades like these,

I do not know myself, and God forbid that I should.

All theory, dear friend, is grey, but the golden tree of actual life springs ever green.

Just trust yourself and you’ll learn the art of living.

She may very well pass for forty-three

My object all sublime

You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Your children are not your children.

Light (God’s eldest daughter) is a principal beauty in building.

Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.

We dance round in a ring and suppose,

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I never dared be radical when young