One Could Say The Higher The Spirit Goes, The More Deeply The Soul Sinks Down Into The Waters Of Melancholy And Tragedy. Drowning In That Water Is As Sweet As Rising.
She Wished She Had A Little Yellow House Of Her Own, With A Flower Box Full Of Real Flowers And Herbs – Pansies And Rosemary – And A Sweet Lover Who Would Swing Dance With Her In The Evenings And Cook Pasta And Read Poetry Aloud.
If Thou Would'st Have That Stream Of Hard-earn'd Knowledge, Of Wisdom Heaven-born, Remain Sweet Running Waters, Thou Should'st Not Leave It To Become A Stagnant Pond.
My Husband Is Such A Healthy Eater. Except When It Comes To Sweets. He Never Consumes Anything Except Fruit Until Noon. And Then From Noon On He Might Have Some Brown Rice And Some Tofu, And Then, Come Eight Or Nine At Night, He Orders Three Mud-pie Double-chocolate Pieces Of Cake And Eats All Three Of Them.
How Sweet I Roamed From Field To Field, And Tasted All The Summer's Pride, Till I The Prince Of Love Beheld, Who In The Sunny Beams Did Glide!
Sweet Babe, In Thy Face Soft Desires I Can Trace, Secret Joys And Secret Smiles, Little Pretty Infant Wiles.
I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!
Ah, Sunflower, Weary Of Time, Who Countest The Steps Of The Sun, Seeking After That Sweet Golden Clime Where The Traveller's Journey Is Done; Where The Youth Pined Away With Desire And The Pale Virgin Shrouded In Snow Arise From Their Graves, And Aspire Where My Sunflower Wishes To Go.
I Thought Love Lived In The Hot Sunshine, But O, He Lives In The Moony Light! I Thought To Find Love In The Heat Of Day, But Sweet Love Is The Comforter Of Night.
Every Night And Every Morn Some To Misery Are Born. Every Morn And Every Night Some Are Born To Sweet Delight, Some Are Born To Endless Night.
