“But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach,And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling,The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake,Broad field, bright flower, and the long white roadA gateless garden, and an open path:My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.”

“The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough.”

“Far away beyond the pine-woods,' he answered, in a low dreamy voice, 'there is a little garden. There the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all night long. All night long he sings, and the cold, crystal moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the sleepers.”

“...raised herself on one round elbow and looked out on a tiny river like a gleaming blue snake winding itself around a purple hill. Right below the house was a field white as snow with daisies, and the shadow of the huge maple tree that bent over the little house fell lacily across it. Far beyond it were the white crests of Four Winds Harbour and a long range of sun-washed dunes and red cliffs.”

“So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

“[Hers] was an existence between heaven and earth... beyond her stretched as far as the eye could see... an immense space of joys and passions...[But] did not love, like flowers, need a special soil, a particular temperature? Sighs by moonlight, long embraces, tears cried into yielding hands...the fevers of the flesh and the langours of tenderness...”