Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.
One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.
There is no instinct like that of the heart.