We do not lose our friends when they die, we only lose sight of them.

Old sundial, you stand here for Time: For Love, the vine that round your base, Its tendrils twines, and dares to climb, And lay one flower-capped spray in grace, Without the asking on your cold, Unsmiling and unfrowning face.

The events of childhood do not pass but repeat themselves like seasons of the year.

In love there are no penalties and no payments, and what is given is indistinguishable from what is received.

No love-story has ever been told twice. I never heard any tale of lovers that did not seem to me as new as the world on its first morning.

Women are so strangely constructed that they have in them darkness as well as light, though it be but a little curtain hung across the sun. And love is the hand that takes the curtain down, a stronger hand than fear, which hung it up. For all the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

And he loved her, both for her fault and her redemption of it, more than he had ever thought that he could love her; for he had believed that in their kiss love had reached its uttermost. But love has no uttermost, as the stars have no number and the sea no rest.