How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What read more

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee read more

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee to me.

Absence is to love what wind is to a fire; it puts out the little, it kindles the great.

Absence is to love what wind is to a fire; it puts out the little, it kindles the great.

For there's nae luck about the house;
There's nae luck at aw;
There's little pleasure in the read more

For there's nae luck about the house;
There's nae luck at aw;
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
- William Julius Mickle,

Cassius and Brutus were the more distinguished for that very
circumstance that their portraits were absent.
[Lat., Praefulgebant read more

Cassius and Brutus were the more distinguished for that very
circumstance that their portraits were absent.
[Lat., Praefulgebant Cassius atque Brutus eo ipso, quod effigies
eorum non videbantur.]

But when he (man) shall have been taken from sight, he quickly
goes also out of mind.
[Lat., read more

But when he (man) shall have been taken from sight, he quickly
goes also out of mind.
[Lat., Cum autem sublatus fuerit ab oculis, etiam cito transit a
mente.]

Sometimes I need what only you can provide -- your absence.

Sometimes I need what only you can provide -- your absence.

Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb read more

Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb of light,
And wish that thou wert by.

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, read more

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!