I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.

Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.

From scarlet to powdered gold, to blazing yellow, to the rare ashen emerald, to the orange and black velvet of your shimmering corselet, out to the tip that like an amber thorn begins you, small, superlative being, you are a miracle, and you blaze

And it follows that I am, because you are: it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, we will, come to be.

From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.