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Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles; but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects; that of the other, like enlarging monsters with a microscope.

Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles; but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects; that of the other, like enlarging monsters with a microscope.

Abou Ben Adhem Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And say, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold; Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said-- "What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head, And, with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

Green little vaulter, in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole noise that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass.

We are Lilies fair, The flower of virgin light; Nature held us forth, and said, "Lo! my thoughts of white." - Leigh Hunt ,

The person who can be only serious or only cheerful, is but half a man.

If you ever have to support a flagging conversation, introduce the topic of eating.

Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain? - Leigh Hunt ,

We are slumberous poppies, Lords of Lethe downs, Some awake and some asleep, Sleeping in our crowns. What perchance our dreams may know, Let our serious may know. - Leigh Hunt ,

An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,-- This art of writing billet-doux-- In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips; and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.

Patience and Gentleness is Power. - Leigh Hunt ,

Yon second-hand bookseller is second to none in the worth of the treasures which he dispenses.

We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,-- Such our breath and blueness is. - Leigh Hunt ,

Abou Ben Adhem Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And say, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold; Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said-- "What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head, And, with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

Wit is the clash and reconcilement of incongruities; the meeting of extremes round a corner.