Believe me, than in half the creeds.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought/ With human hands the creed of creeds/ In loveliness of perfect deeds,/ More strong than all poetic thought.

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

The shell must break before the bird can fly.

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.