The best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
A sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.
Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds.
But trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
I am so alone, even though the world is thronged with people. But that does not matter at all; I am used to it and am very peaceful.
