My sun sets to raise again.

Souls are gregarious in a sense, but no soul touches another, as a general rule.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.

truth outlives pain, as the soul does life.

I begin to think that none are so bold as the timid, when they are fairly roused.

Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.