And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.

When fate has allowed to any man more than one great gift, accident or necessity seems usually to contrive that one shall encumber and impede the other.

Wherever there is a grain of loyalty there is a glimpse of freedom.

There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.

I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.

The beast faith lives on its own dung.

Ask nothing more of me sweet; All I can give you I give; Heart of my heart were it more, More would be laid at your feet.