“She walks in the loveliness she made, Between the apple-blossom and the water--She walks among the patterned pied brocade,Each flower her son, and every tree her daughter.”

“We owned a garden on a hill,We planted rose and daffodil,Flowers that English poets sing,And hoped for glory in the Spring.We planted yellow hollyhocks,And humble sweetly-smelling stocks,And columbine for carnival,And dreamt of Summer's festival.And Autumn not to be outdoneAs heiress of the summer sun,Should doubly wreathe her tawny headWith poppies and with creepers red.We waited then for all to grow,We planted wallflowers in a row.And lavender and borage blue, -Alas! we waited, I and you,But love was all that ever grew.”

“There is nothing more lovely in life than the union of two people whose love for one another has grown through the years, from the small acorn of passion, into a great rooted tree”

“One must be businesslike, although the glass is falling.”

“It is no good my telling you. One never believes other people's experiencem and one is only very gradually convinced by one's own.”

“I cannot love your weeping poets...”

“The fount of joy was bubbling in thine eyes,Dancing was in thy feet,And on thy lips a laugh that never dies,Unutterably sweet. Dance on! for ever young, for ever fair,Lightfooted as a frightened bounding deer,Thy wreath of vine-leaves twisted in thy hair,Through all the changing seasons of the year...”