The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright, Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup, And hold to my two lips life's best of wine.

You Moon! Have you done something wrong in heaven, / That God has hidden your face?

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.

I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered