When the poet died his cat was put to death and mummified.
Love is the crowning grace of humanity.
To be able to say how much love, is love but little.
I rejoiced in my progress, mourned my weaknesses, and commiserated the universal instability of human conduct.
Life in itself is short enough, but the physicians with their art, know to their amusement, how to make it still shorter.
I saw the tracks of angels in the earth: the beauty of heaven walking by itself on the world.