“But song has touch'd my lips with fire,
And made my heart a shrine;
For what, although alloy'd, debased,
Is in itself divine.”

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”

“I have my own soul. My own spark of divine fire.”

“My eyes has been my camera taking pictures of the world and my songs has been my messages that I tried to scatter across the back sides and along the steps of the fire escapes and on the window sills and through the dark halls…”

“The heart wants what the heart wants," she says, somewhat cryptically. I purse my lips in disapproval. "You'd think the heart would know better.”

“My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
Whatever you’ve got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up
And if you can’t be signed up
This year, next year will do.
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.”

“And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.”

“My prayer is to linger with you
At the end of the day in a dream that's divine;
My prayer is a rapture in blue
With the world far away and your lips close to mine.”

“I would resign the words of praise which now
Make my cheek crimson and my pulses beat.
Could I but deem that when my heart is cold
And my lip passionless, my songs would be
Numbered 'mid the young minstrels' first delights,
And murmured by the lover where his suit
Calls upon poetry to breathe of love.”

“Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache: do be my enemy for friendship's sake.”