James Russell Lowell

Who speaks the truth stabs Falsehood to the heart.

All thoughts that mould the age begin
Deep down within the primitive soul.

The thing we long for, that we are
For one transcendent moment.

Is true Freedom but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts, forget
That we owe mankind a debt?

It is by presence of mind in untried emergencies that the native metal of a man is tested.

The wisest man could ask no more of Fate
Than to be simple, modest, manly, true,
Safe from the Many — honored by the Few;
To count as naught in World or Church or State;
But inwardly in secret to be great.

Great truths are portions of the soul of man;
Great souls are portions of eternity.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;