We are what we believe we are.
Delight is incomplete until it is expressed.
Nothing is yet in its true form.
Ah, poor Pole. It's been to much for her, this last bit. Turned her head, I shouldn't wonder. She's beginning to see things.
Remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy.
Those who cannot conceive of Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend.