Whoso loves believes the impossible

If thou must love me, let it be for naught except for love's sake only

You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long

Who so loves believes the impossible

He, in his developed manhood, stood, a little sunburn by the glare of life

He lives most life whoever breathes most air

An ignorance of means may minister To greatness, but an ignorance of aims Make it impossible to be great at all

All actual heroes are essential men, / And all men possible heroes

And each man stands with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach