The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.

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.

Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight: Nor wintry leaves nor vernal; Nor days nor things diurnal; Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.

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.

The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.

There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.

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.