We all go about longing for love: it is the first need of our natures, the first prayer of our hearts; but we dare not utter our longing: we are to shy. George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)
Passion such as hers is all consent, asking little in return: I had merely to enter a room where she was to see her face take on that peaceful expression of one who is resting in bed. If I touched her I had the impression that all the blood in her veins was turning to honey. Marguerite Yourcenar (1903-1987)
She half enclosed me with her arms.
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
and bending back her head,
she looked up,’and gazed upon my face.
‘Twas partly love, and partly fear,
and partly ’twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)