The Air Is All Softness.

I Have So Much Of You In My Heart.

O Aching Time! O Moments Big As Years!

The Opinion I Have Of The Generality Of Women--who Appear To Me As Children To Whom I Would Rather Give A Sugar Plum Than My Time, Forms A Barrier Against Matrimony Which I Rejoice In.

Season Of Mists And Mellow Fruitfulness, Close Bosom-friend Of The Maturing Sun.

You Cannot Conceive How I Ache To Be With You: How I Would Die For One Hour.