Each time we love, We turn a nearer and a broader mark To that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.

We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet; One little hour! And then, away they speed On lonely paths, thr…

Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

The saddest thing that befalls a soul Is when it loses faith in God and woman.

A lost love. Deny it who will, ridicule it, treat it as mere imagination and sentiment, the thing is and will be; and women do suffer therefrom, in all its inf…

Mother, mother There's too many of you crying. Brother, brother, brother There's far too many of you dying. You know we've got to find a way To bring some lovi…

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love.