Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come. SONN. CXVI. SU URE, love vincit omnia; is immeasurably above all ambition, more precious than wealth, more noble than name. He knows not life that knows not that; he hath not felt the highest faculty of the soul who hath not enjoyed it. In the name of my wife I write the completion of hope, and the summit of happiness. To have such a love is the one blessing, in comparison of which all earthly joy is of no value; and to think of her is to praise God. THACKERAY. O LOVE, they wrong thee much I know thee what thou art, ANON. 1605. One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages. WINTER'S TALE i. 2. IT is a great happiness to be praised of them that are most praiseworthy. PHILIP SIDNEY. THERE is delight in singing, though none hear LANDOR. Grace is grace, despite of all controversy. ONE should be fearful of being wrong in poetry, when one thinks differently from the poets, and in religion when one thinks differently from the saints. JOUBERT (translated by MATTHEW ARNOLD). NAY, and I wonder less at God's respect ROBERT BRIDGES. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; And lack not to lose still. HER ALL'S WELL i. 3.. ER high exalted sunbeams have set the phoenix-nest of my breast on fire, and myself have brought Arabian spiceries of sweet passions and praises, to furnish out the funeral flame of my folly. COME hither, shepherd's swain ! I pray thee, show to me thy name. When wert thou born, Desire? NASH. By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot? E. VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. ROMEO AND JULIET ii. 6. TRUE, RUE, 'tis an unhappy circumstance of life, that Love should ever die before us; and that the Man should outlive the Lover. But say what you will, 'tis better to be left, than never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, to refuse the sweets of life, because they once must leave us, is as preposterous, as to wish to have been born old, because we one day must be old. For my part, my youth may wear and waste, but it shall never rust in my possession. CONGREVE. LET the sweet heavens endure, That there is one to love me; TENNYSON. |