O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
From Percy Bysshe Shelley
There is no real wealth but the labor of man.
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.
3 perspectives
2 perspectives
1 perspectives