Nothing To Build, And All Things To

Her Wit Was More Than Man, Her Innocence A Child.

Moderate Sorrow Fits Vulgar Love, And For A Vulgar Man: But I Have Lov'd With Such Transcendent Passion, I Soar'd, At First, Quite Out Of Reason's View, And Now Am Lost Above It.

He With A Graceful Pride, While His Rider Every Hand Survey'd, Sprung Loose, And Flew Into An Escapade; Not Moving Forward, Yet With Every Bound Pressing, And Seeming Still To Quit His Ground.

My Whole Life Has Been A Golden Dream Of Love And Friendship.

The Secret Pleasure Of A Generous Act Is The Great Mind's Great Bribe.