Lo! with a little rod I did but touch the honey of romance — And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

Most modern calendars mar the sweet simplicity of our lives by reminding us that each day that passes is the anniversary of some perfectly uninteresting event.

Only love can keep anyone alive.

How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.

Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent people we call the dead?

People who count their chickens before they are hatched act very wisely because chickens run about so absurdly that it's impossible to count them accurately.

No work of art ever puts forward views. Views belong to people who are not artists.