"They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing; Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees."

"Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee, With promise of strength and manhood full and fair!"

"I love all beauteous things, I seek and adore them."

"When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town."

"Poetry's magic lies in the imagery which satifies even without interpretation..it is accepted as easily as it was created."

"Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid A million buds but stay their blossoming And trustful birds have built their nests amid The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing Till one soft shower from the south shall bid And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of Spring."

"To-morrow it seem Like the empty words of a dream Remembered on waking."

"For beauty being the best of all we know Sums up the unsearchable and secret aims Of nature."

"My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night."

"Good melody is never out of fashion"

"Why hast thou nothing in thy face? Thou idol of the human race, Thou tyrant of the human heart, The flower of lovely youth that art."

"Silence more musical than any song."

"Oh Lord, make thy law, I entreat thee, our delight."

"(Another story inspired by a previous story was "Pico Rico Mandorico," the story of two sisters who escape the power of a devil figure. Wasn't that influenced by Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"?) Yes, in fact my story is a prose rendition of the poem. I said so in the introduction to Sonatinas, the book in Spanish…I liked it so much I said, "I want to do my own version of this"... Writing is a lot like sewing: You bring pieces together and make a quilt. What brought me to Rossetti's story was a dirge, a little ditty called "Pico Rico Mandorico/Quién te dio tamaño pico?" ["Pico Rico, far and wide/leaves a mark where others hide"]. In this nursery rhyme there is a man dressed in black who comes to the house of a little girl. It's always on Sundays-that's very important. He has a very long nose and he spills everything on the table, so they have to cut off his nose. The man is really a devil, and he wants to steal the little girl and take her away with him. The Christina Rossetti story reminded me of the nursery rhyme, and I made a quilt of both."

"One day in the country Is worth a month in town."

"Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth, Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth, Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white, Love is like a lovely rose, the world’s delight. Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth, But the rose with all its thorns excels them both."

"All earth’s full rivers can not fill The sea that drinking thirsteth still."

"For there is no friend like a sister In calm or stormy weather; To cheer one on the tedious way, To fetch one if one goes astray, To lift one if one totters down, To strengthen whilst one stands."

"Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time."

"In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago."

"Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad."

"The birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me."

"When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget."

"Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by."

"Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land."

"Rossetti makes the remark somewhere, bitterly but with great truth, that the worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank."

"Dante Gabriel Rosetti Buried all of his libretti, Thought the matter over—then Went and dug them up again."

"Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend."

"He was, as I believe it is generally admitted, the chief intellectual force in the establishment of the modern romantic school in England."

"Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, Sleeping at last."

"My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit."

"Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die. Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high, Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold. We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours are toll'd, Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky."

"Now kiss, and think that there are really those, My own high-bosom'd beauty, who increase Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way! Through many years they toil; then on a day They die not, — for their life was death, — but cease; And round their narrow lips the mould falls close."

"Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die."

"When all desire at last and all regret Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain, What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget?"

"Each hour until we meet is as a bird That wings from far his gradual way along The rustling covert of my soul."

"Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are."

"Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath Even at this moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh Though screen'd and hid, shall walk the daylight here."

"Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell."

"At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart: And as the last slow sudden drops are shed From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled, So singly flagged the pulses of each heart."

"Beauty like hers is genius."

"Even as the moon grows queenlier in mid-space When the sky darkens, and her cloud-rapt car Thrills with intenser radiance from afar,— So lambent, lady, beams thy sovereign grace When the drear soul desires thee."

"A Sonnet is a moment's monument,— Memorial from the Soul's eternity To one dead deathless hour."