“Love. Because of you, in gardens of blossoming Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring. I have forgotten your face, I no longer Remember your hands; how did your lips Feel on mine?”  

“Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate And though I oft have passed them by A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”  

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”   

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing  and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there.   When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.”  

“Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music.  And death a note unsaid.”  

“To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage. A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons Shudders hell through all its regions.”   

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall...

There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly. 

And the blood in these veins isn’t pumping any less than it ever has. And that’s the hope I have, the only thing I know that’s keeping me alive.