I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman - they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence.
John KeatsTo Hope "When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.
John Keats