That it would always be summer and autumn, and you always courting me, and always thinking as much of me as you have done through the past summertime! - Thomas Hardy

There are disappointments which wring us, and there are those which inflict a wound whose mark we bear to our graves. Such are so keen that no future gratification of the same desire can ever obliterate them: they become registered as a permanent loss of happiness.

I shall do one thing in this life - one thing certain - that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die.

Human shapes, interferences, troubles, and joys were all as if they were not, and there seemed to be on the shaded hemisphere of the globe no sentient being save himself; he could fancy them all gone round to the sunny side.