Love Is The Art Of Hearts, And

There Is No Disappointment We Endure One-half So Great As What We Are To Ourselves.

Life Is Less Than Nothing Without Love.

The Dew, 'tis Of The Tears Which Stars Weep, Sweet With Joy.

For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed, So Poets Live Upon The Living Light.

Worthy Books Are Not Companions – They Are Solitudes: We Lose Ourselves In Them And All Our Cares.