Beauty without the beloved is a like a sword through the heart.

The sea hath no king but God alone.

I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. ... You have been mine before, How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar Your neck turned so, Some veil did fall - I knew it all of yore. Has this been thus before? And shall not thus time's eddying flight Still with our lives our love restore In death's despite, And day and night yield one delight once more

The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.

You have been mine before - How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar, your neck turned so, Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore.

Love, which is quickly kindled in the gentle heart, seized this man for the fair form that was taken from me, the manner still hurts me. Love which absolves no beloved one from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as thou seest, it does not leave me yet

Beauty without the beloved is a like a sword through the heart.