Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew, Which still was panting, part of it was true Oh how I strove the rest to have believed Ashamed and angry to be undeceived.
Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew, Which still was panting, part of it was true Oh how I strove the rest to have believed Ashamed and angry to be undeceived.
One hour of right-down love is worth an age of dully living on.
Variety is the soul of pleasure.
Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.
That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library.
Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret.
Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude.
Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life.
There is no sinner like a young saint.
He that knew all that learning ever writ, Knew only this - that he knew nothing yet.
All I ask, is the privilege for my masculine part the poet in me. . . . If I must not, because of my sex, have this freedom. . . I lay down my quill and you shall hear no more of me.
Love's a thin diet, nor will keep out cold.
Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damnd ill luck every way.
Faith, sir, we are here today, and gone tomorrow.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories