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

It seems to me there are no rules, only instances; but perhaps that is because I learned no rules, and am only an instance myself.

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.

Dropt tears have hastened your decay, And brought you one step nigher death; And you have heard, unthrilled, unmoved, The music of Love's golden breath, And seen the light in eyes that loved. You think you hold the core and kernel, Of all the world beneath your crust, Old dial? But when you lie in dust, This vine will bloom, strong, green, and proved. Love is eternal.

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

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.