When thou art near,

The sweetest joys still sweeter seem,
The brightest hopes more bright appear,
And life is all one happy dream.

When adversities flow, then love ebbs;

But friendship standeth stiffly in storms.

Lilly.

What causes the majority of women to be so little touched by friendship is, that it is insipid when they have once tasted of love.

La Rochefoucauld.

Judges and senates have been bought for gold;
Esteem and love were never to be sold.

Hearts have bled,

Pope.

And healed themselves to be all callous.

Percival.

The head is always the dupe of the heart.

La Rochefoucauld.

Hearts may agree, though heads differ.

Farewell! My lips may wear a careless smile,
My words may breathe the very soul of lightness,
But the touched heart must deeply feel the while
That life has lost a portion of its brightness.

But they who have loved the fondest, the purest,
Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed,
And the heart that has slumbered in friendship securest
Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived.

Moore.

We forgive so long as we love.

La Rochefoucauld.

'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.

Byron.

Jealousy is doubt, and doubt is the death of love.

Bulwer.

In jealousy there is more self-love than love.
La Rochefoucauld.

Men's vows are women's traitors.

My heart's so full of joy,

That I shall do some wild extravagance

Of love in public, and the foolish world,

Shakspeare.

Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.

Speak gently! Love doth whisper low

The vows that true hearts bind;
And gently Friendship's accents flow;
Affection's voice is kind.

O Love! O fire! Once he drew

With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Dryden.

Tennyson.

My lips pressed themselves involuntarily to hers—a long, long kiss, burning, intense-concentrating emotion, heart, soul, all the rays of life's light, into a single focus. Bulwer's "Devereux"

A long, long kiss-a kiss of youth and love.

Byron.

A kiss of the mouth often touches not the heart.

Kiss the tear from her lip; you'll find the rose
The sweeter for the dew.

These poor half kisses kill me quite ;

Was ever man thus served,

Amidst an ocean of delight

For pleasure to be starved?

Webster.

Drayton

I felt the while a pleasing kind of smart,
The kiss went tingling to my very heart.
When it was gone, the sense of it did stay ;
The sweetness clung upon my lips all day
Like drops of honey, loth to fall away.

The kiss you take is paid by what you give;
The joy is mutual, and I'm still in debt.

Dryden.

'She brought her cheek up close, and leaned on his; At which he whispered kisses back on hers.

And with a velvet lip print on his brow

Dryden.

Such language as the tongue hath never spoken.

Mrs. Sigourney.

Those lips, that then so fearless grown,
Never until that instant came

Near his unasked, or without blame.

Moore

In a thousand pounds of law there is not an ounce of love.

My love and I for kisses played;

She would hold stakes, I was content;
But when I won she would be paid;

This made me ask her what she meant.
Nay, then, quoth she, is this discussion vain ;
Give me my stakes, and take your own again.

Paget.

Labor is a mortal enemy to love, and a deadly foe to fancy.

To know, to esteem, to love, and then to part,
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart.

There was a time when bliss

Coleridge.

Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his-
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer.

Moore.

A romantic lover is strange idolater, who sometimes cares not out of what log he frames the object of his adoration; at least, if Nature has given that object any passable proportion of personal charms, he can supply her richly out of the stores of his imagination with supernatural beauty and all the properties of intellectual wealth. Scott's "Waverley."

Those summer flies that flit so gayly round thee,
They never felt one moment what I feel,

With such a silent tenderness,

So closely in my heart.

D

Percival.

In lovers' quarrels, the party that loves most is always most willing to acknowledge the greater fault.

Yes, woman's love's a holy light,

Scott's "Kenilworth."

And when 'tis kindled ne'er can die;
It lives, though treachery and slight

To quench its constancy may try.

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know it has begun. A thousand heralds proclaim it to the listening air, a thousand messengers betray it to the eye. Tone, act, attitude and look, the signals upon the countenance, the electric telegraph of touch,—all these betray the yielding citadel before the word itself is uttered, which, like the key surrendered, opens every avenue and gate of entrance, and renders retreat impossible.

Longfellow.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

Shakspeare.

The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love.

Love me little, love me long.

Terence.

Marlowe.

To write a good love-letter you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what you have written.

Rousseau.

A lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.

Shakspeare.