Absence, that common cure of love.

Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.

Absence, that common cure of love.

Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.

Love not what you are, but what you may become.

Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes