C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


’Tis you, alone, can save, or give my doom.


This hand, I cannot but in death resign!


  • The very thoughts of change I hate,
  • As much as of despair;
  • Nor ever covet to be great,
  • Unless it be for her.
  • Parnell.

    Mutual love the crown of all our bliss!


  • On you, most loved, with anxious fear I wait,
  • And from your judgment must expect my fate.
  • Addison.

  • Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
  • Each other’s pillow to repose divine.
  • Young.

  • Take my esteem, if you on that can live,
  • For frankly, sir, ’tis all I have to give.
  • Dryden.

  • Have I not managed my contrivance well
  • To try your love and make you doubt of mine?
  • Dryden.

  • To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life,
  • Or, crush’d in its ruins, to die!
  • Campbell.

  • For ever thine, whate’er this world betide,
  • In youth, in age, thine own, for ever thine.
  • A. A. Watts.

  • Here still is the smile that no cloud can o’ercast,
  • And the heart, and the hand, all thy own to the last.
  • Moore.

  • Thinkest thou
  • That I could live, and let thee go,
  • Who art my life itself?—no—no.
  • Moore.

  • It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit,
  • Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit,
  • That woman’s love can win;
  • But what it is, hard is to say, harder to hit.
  • Milton.

  • She listen’d with a flitting blush,
  • With downcast eyes, and modest grace,
  • For well she knew I could not choose
  • But gaze upon her face.
  • Coleridge.

  • Yet, it is love—if thoughts of tenderness,
  • Tried in temptation, strengthened by distress,
  • Unmov’d by absence, firm in every clime,
  • And yet—oh! more than all!—untir’d by time.
  • Byron.

  • By those tresses unconfin’d,
  • Woo’d by every gentle wind;
  • By those lids whose jetty fringe
  • Kiss thy soft cheek’s blooming tinge;
  • By those wild eyes, like the roe,
  • Ah! hear my vow before I go—
  • My dearest life, I love thee!
  • Can I cease to love thee?—no!
  • Zoe mous s-as agapo.
  • Byron.

  • On your hand, that pure altar, I vow,
  • Though I’ve look’d and have lik’d, and have felt—
  • That I never have lov’d—till now.
  • M. G. Lewis.

  • Never wedding, ever wooing,
  • Still a love-lorn heart pursuing,
  • Read you not the wrong you’re doing,
  • In my cheek’s pale hue?
  • All my life with sorrow strewing,
  • Wed, or cease to woo.
  • Thomas Campbell.

  • ’Tis not in fate to harm me,
  • While fate leaves thy love to me;
  • ’Tis not in joy to charm me,
  • Unless that joy be shar’d with thee.
  • Moore.