Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of

Image, Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of

Mastering the lawless science of our law,- that codeless myriad of precedent, that wilderness of single instances.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Image, It is the little rift within the lute That by and by

Image, The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story:

Image, He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel

Image, The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their

Image, Virtue must shape itself in deed.

Image, And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were

Image, Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast,

Image, Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

Image, It was my duty to have loved the highest; It surely was

Image, Many a night I saw the Pleiads, Rising thro’ the mellow shade,

Image, All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

Image, There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.

Image, I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the

Image, A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Image, Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

Image, Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has

Image, Every man at time of Death, Would fain set forth some saying

Image, My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

Image, Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail Against her beauty? May she

Image, Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown

Image, Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies,

Image, I am any man’s suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some

Image, Tis not your work, but Love’s. Love, unperceived, A more ideal Artist

Image, For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and

Image, Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.

Image, I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.

Image, Man is the hunter; women are the game; those sleek and shining

Image, France had shown a light to all men, preached a Gospel, all

Image, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

Image, The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of