The Will Is Always Near, Dear, Though

To Venerate The Simple Days Which Lead The Seasons By, Needs But To Remember That From You Or I They May Take The Trifle Termed Mortality!

We Both Believe, And Disbelieve A Hundred Times An Hour, Which Keeps Believing Nimble.

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

Beauty Is Just A Light Switch Away...'click!' Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.

We Outgrow Love Like Other Things And Put It In A Drawer, Till It An Antique Fashion Shows Like Costumes Grandsires Wore.