The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.
A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.
You are always new to me.
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.