All Love is sweet. Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever.

Soul meets soul on lovers lips.

The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?

True Love in this differs from gold and clay,/That to divide is not to take away.

The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom

There is eloquence in the tongueless
wind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of the
reeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to something
within the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathless
rapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, like
the enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one beloved
singing to you alone.