Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress; and love has changed to kindliness.

The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.

Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress; and love has changed to kindliness.

Youth is stranger than fiction.

I have need to busy my heart with quietude.