These blossoms, gathered in familiar paths, With dear companions now passed out of sight, Shall not be laid upon their graves. They… — Lucy Larcom Copy Share Image
Well blest is he who has a dear one dead; A friend he has whose face will never change- A dear communion… — John Boyle O'Reilly Copy Share Image
Through the air floated only important words, and Flajsman said to himself that love has but one true measure, and that is… — Milan Kundera Copy Share Image
At the end of true love is death, and only the love that ends in death is love. — Milan Kundera Copy Share Image
“Doubt swells and surges, with swelling doubt behind! My soul in storm is but a tattered sail, Streaming its ribbons on the… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
