I would kneel by the bank, in the grasses dank, And drink you, drink you, drink you. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox, from “If,” <i>Picked Poems</i>. (Chicago:… - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I sometimes think God must be a woman — He is
expected to forgive so much.

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.

You may choose your word like a connoisseur, And polish it up with art, But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, Is the word that comes from the heart. You may work on your word a thousand weeks, But it will not glow like one That all unsought, leaps forth white hot, When the fountains of feeling run.