C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Cupid
That blind, rascally boy that abuses every one’s eyes, because his own are out.
Love, well thou knowest, no partnership allows; Cupid averse rejects divided vows.
Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.
The wounds invisible that Love’s keen arrows make.
Thou art figured blind, and yet we borrow our best sight from thee.
There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument.
There is an English song beginning, “Love knocks at the door.” He knocks less often than he finds it open.
Love is ever busy with his shuttle, is ever weaving into life’s dull warp bright, gorgeous flowers, and scenes Arcadian.
According to the Asiatics, Cupid’s bow is strung with bees which are apt to sting, sometimes fatally, those who meddle with it.
Before the birth of Love, many fearful things took place through the empire of necessity; but when this god was born, all things rose to men.
We say love is blind, and the figure of Cupid is drawn with a bandage around his eyes. Blind—yes, because he does not see what he does not like; but the sharpest-sighted hunter in the universe is Love for finding what he seeks, and only that.
In the true mythology, Love is an immortal child, and Beauty leads him as guide; nor can we express a deeper sense than when we say Beauty is the pilot of the young soul.
Love can take what shape he pleases; and when once begun his fiery inroad in the soul, how vain the after knowledge which his presence gives! We weep or rave; but still he lives, and lives master and lord, amidst pride and tears and pain.