You're something between a dream and a miracle.

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

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

You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness; Round our restlessness, His rest.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

He's just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently, He'd wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean.