All Romances End At Marriage.

Teach Me To Live, That I May Dread The Grave As Little As My Bed. Teach Me To Die.

...the Figure Near At Hand Suffers On Such Occasions, Because It Shows Up Its Sorriness Without Shade; While Vague Figures Afar Off Are Honored, In That Their Distance Makes Artistic Virtues Of Their Stains. In Considering What Tess Was Not, He Overlooked What She Was, And Forgot That The Defective Can Be More Than The Entire.

You Could Sometimes See Her Twelfth Year In Her Cheeks, Or Her Ninth Sparkling From Her Eyes; And Even Her Fifth Would Flit Over The Curves Of Her Mouth Now And Then.

Christmas Eve, And Twelve Of The Clock. "now They Are All On Their Knees," An Elder Said As We Sat In A Flock By The Embers In Hearth-side Ease. We Pictured The Meek Mild Creatures Where They Dwelt In Their Strawy Pen, Nor Did It Occur To One Of Us There To Doubt They Were Kneeling Then. So Fair A Fancy Few Would Weave In These Years! Yet, I Feel If Someone Said On Christmas Eve, "come; See The Oxen Kneel, In The Lonely Barton By Yonder Coomb Our Childhood Used To Know," I Should Go With Him In The Gloom, Hoping It Might Be So.

Women Are Attracted To Silent Men. They Believe They Are Listening.