I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.

I wear the chain I forged in life....I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.

Be guided, only by the healer of the sick, the raiser of the dead, the friend of all who were afflicted and forlorn, the patient Master who shed tears of compassion for our infirmities. We cannot but be right if we put all the rest away, and do everything in remembrance of Him. There is no vengeance and no infliction of suffering in His life, I am sure. There can be no confusion in following Him, and seeking for no other footsteps, I am certain!

The streets looked small, of course. The streets that we have only seen as children always do I believe when we go back to them

Never sign a valentine with your own name.

I will die here where I have walked. And I will walk here, though I am in my grave. I will walk here until the pride of this house is humbled.

Loves and Cupids took to flight afraid, and Martyrdom had no such torment in its painted history of suffering.