“He painted till the lamps grew dim, his hand
Scarce conscious what it wrought; at length his lids
Closed in a heavy slumber, and he dream'd
That a fair creature came and kissed his brow,
And bade him follow her: he knew the look,
And rose. Awakening, he found himself
Kneeling before the portrait:—'twas so fair
He deemed it lived, and press'd his burning lips
To the sweet mouth; his soul pass'd in that kiss,—
Young Guido died beside his masterpiece!”

The Painter. from The London Literary Gazette: 15th November 1823 Poetic Sketches. Fourth Series. Sketch I.
The Vow of the Peacock (1835)

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English poet and novelist 1802–1838

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“Twas as she hoped, — he sleeps; and now
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Sucking the poison forth : 't was bliss
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(6th March 1824) Metrical Tales. Tale II. The Poisoned Arrow
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The London Literary Gazette, 1824

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“He reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my fingertips. "I love you.”

Sylvia Day (1973) American writer

Source: Reflected in You

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