If we begin to stop spewing the negative and really move into using our voices and our pens and our abilities that we have to reach millions of people to the positive, we can make a difference in the world.

Only supreme in misery!

Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.

That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed, Under a shade, on flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Yet I thought I saw her stand, A shadow there at my feet, High over the shadowy land.

Seal'd her minefrom her first sweet breath Mine, and mine by right, from birth till death Mine, mine-our fathers have sworn.

The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.

How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.

“No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.”

Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?

Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous

If I had caused the cloud, it was my duty to make an effort to dispel it.

“A pleasure is not full grown until it is remembered.”

Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.

And I breathe large at home. I drop my cloak, Unclasp my girdle, loose the band that ties My hair...now could I but unloose my soul! We are sepulchred alive in this close world, And want more room.

Tis because we be on a blighted star, and not a sound one, isn't it Tess?

--the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man...

Some folks want their luck buttered.

Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things,...