As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.

Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses.

But we have been taught to see before our eyes have found out a way of seeing for themselves.

My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.

It is in their eyes that their magic resides.

What we ask of him is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out for ourselves... He must have the passion of a lover.

A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation.