To return after long years of painful absence to some place which has been the scene of our former joys, and whence the force of circumstance, and not choice, has driven us, is oppressive to the heart.
The neck on which diamonds might have worthily sparkled will look less tempting when the biting winter has hung icicles there for gems.
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?
And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head!
My hearing has suffered seriously; just now I am obliged to have the assistance of an ear trumpet. Think of that, my beauty! – There's a state for your old Lover to be in! – No more tender whisperings!
That 's eight times to-day that you 've kissed me before. Then here goes another to make sure, For there 's luck in odd numbers.
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can.
Too little is it considered, while we gaze on aristocratic beauty, how much good food, soft lying, warm wrapping, ease of mind, have to do with the attractions which command our admiration.
As she sat in the low-backed car The man at the turn-pike bar Never asked for the toll But just rubbed his auld poll And looked after the low-backed car.
There was a place in childhood that I remember well, And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell.
What is wine? It is the grape present in another form; its essence is there, though the fruit which produced it grew thousands of miles away, and perished years ago.
Sure my love is all crost Like a bud in the frost And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head!
My hearing has suffered seriously; just now I am obliged to have the assistance of an ear trumpet. Think of that, my beauty!
I'll seek a four-leaved shamrock in all thy fairy dells, And if I find the charmed leaves, oh, how I'll weave my spells!
How many chapters have been written about love verses - and how many more might be written! - might, would, could, should, or ought to be written! - I will venture to say, will be written!
