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

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

Our Euripides the human, With his droppings of warm tears, and his touchings of things common Till they rose to meet the spheres.

But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!

The devil's most devilish when respectable.

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

What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.