Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.

What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed - and not for pay? Absurd - or insincere?

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

Light tomorrow with today!

God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.