My candle burns at both ends

I am waylaid by beauty.

Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare.

They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.

I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.