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

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.

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

It always gives me a shiver when I see a cat seeing what I can't see.

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.

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 starshave no number and the sea no rest.

All the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.