It Cuts One Sadly To See The

There Is A Sort Of Jealousy Which Needs Very Little Fire; It Is Hardly A Passion, But A Blight Bred In The Cloudy, Damp Despondency Of Uneasy Egoism.

May I Reach That Purest Heaven - Be To Other Souls The Cup Of Strength In Some Great Agony; Enkindle Generous Ardor, Feed Pure Love, Beget The Smiles That Have No Cruelty. Be The Sweet Presence Of A Good Diffused, And In The Diffusion Ever More Intense! So Shall I Join The Choir Invisible Whose Music Is The Gladness Of The World.

The Very Truth Hath A Colour From The Disposition Of The Utterer.

It Is Better - It Shall Be Better With Me Because I Have Known You.

Sympathetic People Often Don't Communicate Well, They Back Reflected Images Which Hide Their Own Depths.