Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.

Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.

We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.

Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

The moon is hidden behind a cloud... On the leaves is a sound of falling rain... No other sounds than these I hear; The hour of midnight must be near... So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away: I will go down to the chapel and pray.