*Love is like fire....Wounds of fire are hard to bear; harder still are those of love. Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen, Gunnar. Ch.4.

*Could I love less, I should be happier now. P.J. Bailey, Festus: Garden and Bower.

*Just like Love is yonder rose, Heavenly fragrance round it throws, Yest tears its dewy leaves disclose, And in the midst of brairs it blows--Just like Love. Camoens, Rose and Thorn. (Stangford, tr.)

*Love and sorrow twins were born On a shining showery morn. Thomas Blacklock, The Graham.

*There are as many pangs in love as shells upon the shore. (Littore quot conchae, tot sunt in amore dolores.) Ovid, Ars Amatoria. Bk. ii, l. 519.

He who falls in love meets worse fate than he who leaps from a rock. (Qui in amore praecipitavit, pejus perit quam si saxo saliat.) Platus, Trimimmus. Act ii, sc. 1, l. 30.

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, Hast thou more of pain or pleasure..... Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee! Addison, Rosamond. Act iii, sc. 2.

*Safe and frequented is the path of deciet under the name of friendship. (Tuta frequensque via est per amicia fallere nomen.) Ovid, Ars Amatoria. i, l. 585.

*Friendship is but a name. (Nomen amicitia est.) Ovid, Ars Amatoria. Bk. i, l. 740.

*There is a freind , which is only a friend in name. Apocrypha: Ecclesiasticus, xxxvii, 1.

*An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse. JOHN GAY, Fablyes. Pt. i, No. 17.

*It is a misfortune for a man not to have a friend in the world, but for that reason he shall have no enemy. Lord Halifax, Works, p. 243.

*And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep? Goldsmith, A Ballad. (Vicar of Wakefield. Ch. 8.)

*But I, Being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams. W.B. Yeats, Wind Among the Reeds.

*The house of dreams in which i live
Has beamed old ceiling high,
It sits far back amid the trees
And a brook runs laughing by;
It has a quaint old-fashioned hall,
Where soft light filters through,
Red roses on the newel-post
And on the staircase, You.
Elizabeth Gordon, House of Dreams

*Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Matthwe Arnold, Longing. St. 1.