I wrote my name upon the sand; I thought I wrote it on thine heart. I had no touch of fear, that words, Such words, so graven, could depart. - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

I can conceive no punishment so dreadful as keeping perpetual watch on our words, lest they betray what they mean to conceal ; to know no unguarded moment — no careless gaiety — to pine for the confidence which yet we dare not bestow — to tremble, lest that some hidden meaning lurk in a phrase which only our own sickly fancy could torture into bearing such — to have suspicion become a second nature — and to shrink every morning from the glad sunshine, for we know not what a day may bring forth : the wheel of Ixion were a tender mercy compared to such a state.

What is the light from yon deep wood flashing —
What the sound on the wild wind borne ?
What the dark ranks that are onwards dashing
To the voice of the pealing horn ?
Who are they that thundering go ? —
It is the Black Hunt of the bold Litzou !

Ah, deeply the Minstrel has felt all he sings,
Every passion he paints his own bosom has known ;
No note of wild music is swept from the strings,
But first his own feelings have echoed the tone.