What we do belongs to what we are; and what we are is what becomes of us. - Henry van Dyke

Raise the stone, and thou shalt find me; cleave the wood and there am I.

Let me but feel thy look's embrace,
Transparent, pure, and warm,
And I'll not ask to touch thy face,
Or fold thee in mine arm.
For in thine eyes a girl doth rise,
Arrayed in candid bliss,
And draws me to her with a charm
More close than any kiss.

The mountain is voiceless and imperturbable; and its very loftiness and serenity sometimes make us the more lonely.