There Is Perfect Love In

Forgetfulness Is Not To Be Purchased With A Wish; And I Cannot Bestow My Esteem On All Who Desire It, Unless They Deserve It Too.

The Ties That Bind Us To Life Are Tougher Than You Imagine, Or Than Any One Can Who Has Not Felt How Roughly They May Be Pulled Without Breaking.

But Smiles And Tears Are So Alike With Me, They Are Neither Of Them Confined To Any Particular Feelings: I Often Cry When I Am Happy, And Smile When I Am Sad.

Oh, I Am Very Weary, Though Tears No Longer Flow; My Eyes Are Tired Of Weeping, My Heart Is Sick Of Woe.

I Love The Silent Hour Of Night, For Blissful Dreams May Then Arise, Revealing To My Charmed Sight What May Not Bless My Waking Eyes.