I shall do one thing in this life-one thing certain-this is, love you, and long of you, and keep wanting you till I die.

That cold accretion called the world, so terrible in the mass, is so non formidable, even pitiable, in its units.

Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.

Thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of his own suit, a high resolve constrained him not to injure that of another. This is a lover's most stoical virtue, as the lack of it is a lover's most venial sin.

Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who do themselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less a selfish man. The devoted fail.

My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.

Meanwhile, the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain. She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundly -the thought of the world's concern at her situation- was found on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself.