Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

“Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?"Malvolio: "Fool, there was neve…”

“Kissing with golden face the meadows green,Gilding pale streams with heavenly a…”

“When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things p…”

“Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety.”