Every veil secretly desires to be lifted, except the veil of Hypocrisy.
Trust Love, nor fear to soar upon his track. The wings that bore to Heaven will bear thee back.
As the bud a leaf, so at last the thought becomes a word.
Passion is Love's blind guide, but the only one he hath.
Wail not too wildly for expiring Love: The Love that dies was never quite alive.
Art achieves all little things by absolute truth: but all her great things need some admixture of illusion.