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You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

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Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

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Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

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Love doesn't make the world go round Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.

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Enough! we're tired, my heart and I.We sit beside the headstone thus,And wish that name were carved for us.The moss reprints more tenderlyThe hard typ...more

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My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.

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The picture of helpless indolence she calls herselfsublimely helpless and impotentI had done living I thoughtWas ever life so like death before? My fa...more