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Alice Meynell


I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, 
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight

 - The thought of thee - and in the blue Heaven's height, 
And in the sweetest passage of a song. 
Oh, lust beyond the fairest thoughts that throng 
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright; 
But it must never, never come in sight; 
I must stop short of thee the whole day long. 
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day, 
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, 
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart, 
Must doff my will as raiment laid away, 

-  With the first dream that comes with the first sleep I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.




Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,

When I am sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone.
When I walk along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on

Adrian Mitchell

Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont

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