But since he had The genius to be loved, why let him have The justice to be honoured in his grave.

When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .

Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another!

The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.

A man may love a woman perfectly, and yet by no means ignorantly maintain a thousand women have not larger eyes. Enough that she alone has looked at him with eyes that, large or small, have won his soul.

The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.

The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)Is by thee only, whom I love alone.