“Love can do all but raise the DeadI doubt if even thatFrom such a giant were withheldWere flesh equivalentBut love is tired and must sleep,And hungry and must grazeAnd so abets the shining FleetTill it is out of gaze.”

“That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.”

“My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?”

“That Love is all there isIs all we know of Love,It is enough, the freight should beProportioned to the groove.”

“I had been hungry all the years-My noon had come, to dine-I, trembling, drew the table nearAnd touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had seenWhen turning, hungry, lone,I looked in windows, for the wealthI could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread,'Twas so unlike the crumbThe birds and I had often sharedIn Nature's diningroom. The plenty hurt me, 'twas so new,--Myself felt ill and odd,As berry of a mountain bushTransplanted to the road. Nor was I hungry; so I foundThat hunger was a wayOf persons outside windows,The entering takes away.”

“How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,--you must have noticed them in the street,--how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?”

“I must go in, the fog is rising.”