If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror, No vanity's displayed: I'm looking for the face I had Before the world was made.

It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.

The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.

Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.

What were all the world's alarms To mighty Paris when he found Sleep upon a golden bed That first dawn in Helen's arms?

We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love

THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.