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.

My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.

Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.

The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.

Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.

You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time...Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you.