“Let this be my last word, that I trust in thy love.”

“Let me tell you something. This is my playpen, and I get the last word.”

Judith Sheindlin (1942) American lawyer, judge, television personality, and author

“Oh let thy fear within me dwell,
Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love shall vainer loves expel,
That fear all fears beside.”

James Merrick (1720–1769) British poet and philologist

“O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last!”

Percy Bysshe Shelley The Indian Serenade

“Let me dream only with my heart,
Love first, and after see:
Know thy diviner counterpart
Before I kneel to thee.
So in thy motions all expressed
Thy angel I may view:
I shall not on thy beauty rest,
But Beauty's ray in you.”

George William Russell (1867–1935) Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter

“No rest is to be found
But in Thy blessèd love;
O let my wish be crowned
And send it from above.”

John Byrom (1692–1763) Poet, inventor of a shorthand system

“Be silent or let thy words be worth more than silence.”

Pythagoras (-585–-495 BC) ancient Greek mathematician and philosopher

“My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear — a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I do — for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my deeds thy own hopes in action.”

Khalil Gibran (1883–1931) Lebanese artist, poet, and writer

“And the last words I heard him say were
I shall return for you my love on Christmas Day…”

Dido (1971) English singer-songwriter

“"Jubal," the face said, "I am thy loved Past,
The soul that makes thee one from first to last.
I am the angel of thy life and death,
Thy outbreathed being drawing its last breath.
Am I not thine alone, a dear dead bride
Who blest thy lot above all men's beside?”

George Eliot (1819–1880) English novelist, journalist and translator