Oh, Only Those Whose Souls Have Felt

Memory Has Many Conveniences, And, Among Others, That Of Foreseeing Things As They Have Afterwards Happened.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past, What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last?

Strange The Affection Which Clings To Inanimate Objects - Objects Which Cannot Even Know Our Love! But It Is Not Return That Constitutes The Strength Of An Attachment.

I Never Cast A Flower Away, A Gift Of One Who Car'd For Me; A Flower--a Faded Flower, But It Was Done Reluctantly.

There Are Words To Paint The Misery Of Love, But None To Paint Its Happiness.