Tears water our growth.

Affection is a coal that must be cooled; else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.

Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.

Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.

Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

where civil blood makes civil hands unclean