He Does Not Weep Who Does Not

Be Like The Bird Who, Pausing In Her Flight Awhile On Boughs Too Slight, Feels Them Give Way Beneath Her, And Yet Sings, Knowing She Hath Wings.

To Die For Lack Of Love Is Horrible. The Asphyxia Of The Soul.

Dying Is Nothing. What's Terrible Is Not To Live.

To Love Beauty Is To See Light.

At Least You Are Mine! Soon – In A Few Months, Perhaps, My Angel Will Sleep In My Arms, Will Awaken In My Arms, Will Live There. All Your Thought At All Moments, All Your Looks Will Be For Me; All My Thought, All My Moments, All My Looks Will Be For You!