“Look, then, into thine heart, and write!Yes, into Life's deep stream!All forms of sorrow and delight,All solemn Voices of the Night,That can soothe thee, or affright, -Be these henceforth thy theme.(excerpt from "Voices of the Night")”

“...Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee; harken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night.”

“When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,For all the day they view things unrespected;But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,How would thy shadow's form form happy showTo the clear day with thy much clearer light,When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed madeBy looking on thee in the living day,When in dead night thy fair imperfect shadeThrough heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!All days are nights to see till I see thee,And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.”

“The proudest heart that ever beat,Hath been subdued in me;The wildest will that ever rose--To scorn Thy cause or aid Thy foes--Is quelled, my God, by Thee!Thy will, and not my will, be done;Henceforth I'd be forever Thine;Confessing Thee, the Living Word,My Savior Christ, my God, my Lord,Thy Cross shall be my sign!”

“If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it.I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigiland its head bent low with patience.The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish,and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests,and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.”

“The kiss, dear maid ! thy lip has leftShall never part from mine,Till happier hours restore the giftUntainted back to thine. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,An equal love may see:The tear that from thine eyelid streamsCan weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blestIn gazing when alone;Nor one memorial for a breast,Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write --- to tell the taleMy pen were doubly weak:Oh ! what can idle words avail,Unless the heart could speak ? By day or night, in weal or woe,That heart, no longer free,Must bear the love it cannot show,And silent ache for thee.”