I love her with a love as still
As a broad river's peaceful might,
Which by high tower and lowly mill,
Goes wandering at its own will,
And yet does ever flow aright.
There is nothing holier in this life of ours that the first consciousness of love - the first fluttering of its silken wings - the first rising sound and breath of that wind which is soon to sweep through the soul, to purify or destroy.
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human