What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
What's come to perfection perishes. Things learned on earth we shall practice in heaven; Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.
They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.