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.

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.

I will fight for you, yes, and you will fight for me. And if you have sacrificed joy and courage and beauty and wisdom for my sake, I will give them all to you again; and yet you must also give them to me, for they are things in which without you I am wanting. But together we can make 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.

Of what use to destroy the children of evil? It is evil itself we must destroy at the roots.

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.

Ecstasy cannot be constant, or it would kill.