The poetic element lying hidden in most women is the source of their magnetic attraction.
A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.
Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart; I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses, as at twenty years ago.
The ode lives upon the ideal, the epic upon the grandiose, the drama upon the real.
I am in the night. There is a being who has gone away and carried the heavens with her. Oh! to be laid side by side in the same tomb, hand clasped in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, to caress a finger gently, that would suffice for my eternity.