These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

If a pretty woman only knew how anger improved her beauty! Her complexion needs no other paint than indignation.

The dower of great beauty has always been misfortune, since happiness and beauty do not agree together.

The heart is an astrologer that always divines the truth.

Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul Yet uncorrected of the higher will, So that men sometimes in their dreams confess An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; -Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin In missing each that salutory rein Of reason, and the grinding will of man.

And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, How if our waking life, like that of sleep, Be all a dream in that eternal life To which we wake not till we sleep in death

Grief has been compared to a hydra; for every one that dies, two are born.