It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.

Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.

I want a brighter word than bright

It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.

I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.

Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.

I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.