“He understood at last what poets meant by their melodious musings, woven into golden threads of song — he seemed to have grasped some hitherto unguessed secret of his being — a secret that filled him with as much strange pain as pleasure.”
More from Marie Corelli
“And Love, no matter how abused and maltreated, is a very patient god, and even while…”
“Love that keeps all the choir of lives in chime — Love that is blood within the veins of…”
“Still Love remained — a Love, chastened and sad, with drooping wings and somewhat doubting…”
“Is Love alone worth living for — worth dying for? Is it the only satisfying good we can…”