Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.

I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.

I am not afraid of lawyers as I used to be. They are lambs in wolves' clothing.

I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year, Ere I forget, or die, or move away, And we are done forever; by and by I shall forget you, as I said, but now, If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow. I would indeed that love were longer-lived, And vows were not so brittle as they are, But so it is, and nature has contrived To struggle on without a break thus far,-- Whether or not we find what we are seeking Is idle, biologically speaking.

Death devours all lovely things.

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.

Beauty is whatever gives joy.