To know her was to love her.
Then never less alone than when alone.
To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
Paris strikes the vulgar part of us infinitely the most, but to a thinking mind London is incomparably the most delightful subject for contemplation.
Gentle to others, to himself severe.
Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.