The Charm, One Might Say The Genius,

Books Are Men Of Higher Stature, And The Only Men That Speak Aloud For Future Times To Hear.

The English Have A Scornful Insular Way Of Calling The French Light.

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

Unless You Can Muse In A Crowd All Day On The Absent Face That Fixed You; Unless You Can Love, As The Angels May, With The Breadth Of Heaven Betwixt You; Unless You Can Dream That His Faith Is Fast, Through Behoving And Unbehoving; Unless You Can Die When The Dream Is Past — Oh, Never Call It Loving!

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.