Yes, I answered you last night; No, this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day.

We have hearts within, Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts.

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

World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

I should not dare to call my soul my own.

Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning.

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.