Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.

To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.

The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott

The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink Together.

A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.

What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.

Shall love be blamed for want of faith?