World-wide apart, and yet akin,
As showing that the human heart
Beats on forever as of old.

World-wide apart, and yet akin,
As showing that the human heart
Beats on forever as of old.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart read more

Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me!
Made answer to my word.

There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the read more

There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better.

Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that read more

Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself.

Friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief.

Friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief.

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
read more

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And read more

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider like, we feel the tenderest touch.

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.