Through tall cowslips nodding near you, Just to touch you as you pass.

The first wan cowslip, wet With tears of the first morn.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven. Our work is not design, but destiny.

Don't be so humble--you are not that great.

O be very sure That no man will learn anything at all, Unless he first will learn humility.

There is purpose in pain, Otherwise it were devilish.