“The perfect woman, you see [is] a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who [uses] her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.”

Some folk want their luck buttered.

A lover without indiscretion is no lover at all.

The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.

My weakness has always been to prefer the large intention of an unskilful artist to the trivial intention of an accomplished one: in other words, I am more interested in the high ideas of a feeble executant than in the high execution of a feeble thinker.

If we be doomed to marry, we marry; if we be doomed to remain single we do.

It was still early, and the sun’s lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet.

Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied soul of feeling wandering without its carcase, and it is then more impressive than speech.

To dwellers in a wood, almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature.

Well, these sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for they enable us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that Fate loves to indulge in.

It was then that the ecstasy and the dream began, in which emotion was the matter of the universe, and matter but an adventitious intrusion likely to hinder you from spinning where you wanted to spin.

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.

Many have learned that the magnitude of lives is not as to their external displacements, but as to their subjective experiences. The impressionable peasant leads a larger, fuller, more dramatic life than the pachydermatous king.

I shall do one thing in this life-one thing certain-this is, love you, and long of you, and keep wanting you till I die.

If a path to the better there be, it begins with a full look at the worst.

She moved about in a mental cloud of many-coloured idealities, which eclipsed all sinister contingencies by its brightness.

But nothing is more insidious than the evolution of wishes from mere fancies, and of wants from mere wishes.

Surrender to me a new heart with your touch I may love again.

Muses are born from a soul that is aching but I would sacrifice the most beautiful art if I could stop one heart from breaking.

Fly like a butterfly in the fields like they did in the time of yore, fly like a butterfly in my heart like you never did from the time of yore.

You build a home, within your heart, with veins pumping memories.

The heart is known to provide solutions from time to time. Listen to your heart.

Keep your mind open, your spirit wide and loose, the heart warm and kind.

The heart will find its way.

Would you remember me for a day or four, or will I live with you in your heart, at the core?