I Gave Him My Heart, And He

I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half Savage And Hardy, And Free... Why Am I So Changed? I'm Sure I Should Be Myself Were I Once Among The Heather On Those Hills.

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves.

It Was Not The Thorn Bending To The Honeysuckles, But The Honeysuckles Embracing The Thorn.

I Despise Him For Himself, And Hate Him For The Memories He Revives!

Any Relic Of The Dead Is Precious, If They Were Valued Living.