What Want These Outlaws Conquerors Should Have

No Hand Can Make The Clock Strike For Me The Hours That Are Passed.

If I Don't Write To Empty My Mind, I Go Mad. As To That Regular, Uninterrupted Love Of Writing. I Do Not Understand It. I Feel It As A Torture, Which I Must Get Rid Of, But Never As A Pleasure. On The Contrary, I Think Composition A Great Pain.

Be Warm, Be Pure, Be Amorous, But Be Chaste.

You Should Have A Softer Pillow Than My Heart.

The Light Of Love, The Purity Of Grace, The Mind, The Music Breathing From Her Face, The Heart Whose Softness Harmonised The Whole — And, Oh! That Eye Was In Itself A Soul!