The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.

To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.

Spring's first conviction is a wealth beyond its whole experience.

The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.

The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.