On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some; to others they are dumb.

Upon your shattered ruins where, This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

He bent his head and kissed her long and deeply, and in that kiss neither knew themselves, or even each other, but something beyond all consciousness that was both of them.

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.

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.

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

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.