We gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

And all I loved, I loved alone.

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

The greater amount of truth is impulsively uttered; thus the greater amount is spoken, not written.

The death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover.

The sole purpose is to provide infinite springs, at which the soul may allay the eternal thirst TO KNOW which is forever unquenchable within it, since to quench it, would be to extinguish the soul's self.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.