"I want to tell you something but good taste. Restrains me."

"Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables."

"My blood with gentle horrors thrilled: My feeble pulse forgot to play; I fainted, sunk, and died away."

"May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve."

"I would rather see her lovely step and the radiant sparkle of her face than all the chariots of Lydia."