But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.

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.

There are nettles everywhere, but smooth, green grasses are more common still; the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.

My love for him was so exquisitely pure that if we all were capable of giving and receiving such a beautiful gift the world would be a far more brilliant place; I think we'd all be poets.

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.

And Chaucer, with his infantine Familiar clasp of things divine.