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

The sea hath no king but God alone.

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

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.

Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are.

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

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