What noble deeds were we not ripe for in the days when we loved? What noble lives could we not have live for her sake?

 Our love was a religion we could have died for. It was no mere human creature like ourselves that we adored. It was a queen that we paid homage to, a goddess that we worshipped. And how madly we did worship! And how sweet it was to worship!

 Ah, lad, cherish love's young dreame while it lasts! You will know, too soon, how truly Tom Moore sang, when he said that there was nothing half as sweet in life. Even when it brings misery, it is a wild, romantic misery, all unlike the dull, worldly pain of after sorrows. When you have lost her―when the light is gone out from your life, and the world stretches before you a long, dark horror, even then a half enchantment mingles with your despair. Ah, those foolish days, those foolish days, when we were unselfish, and pure-minded; those foolish days, when our simple hearts were full of truth, and faith, and reverence!