There is nothing holier in this life of ours that the first consciousness of love - the first fluttering of its silken wings - the first rising sound and breath of that wind which is soon to sweep through the soul, to purify or destroy.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret.
Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human