Related:

• There 's not a string attuned to mirth But has its chord in melancholy.
  -- Thomas Hood (1798-1845) -- Ode to Melancholy...
• Another tumble! That 's his precious nose!
  -- Thomas Hood (1798-1845) -- Parental Ode to my Infant So...
• Even God's providence Seeming estrang'd. -- Thomas Hood (1798-1845) -- The Bridge of Sigh
• Whose lines are mottoes of the heart, Whose truths electrify the sage.
  -- Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) -- Ode to the Memory of Bu...
• But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart.
  -- Thomas Hood (1798-1845) -- The Lady's Dream...
• No solemn sanctimonious face I pull, Nor think I 'm pious when I 'm only biliou
  Nor study in my sanctum supercilious, To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull....
• Absence makes the heart grow fonder: Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!
  -- Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839) -- Isle of Beauty...
• We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body.
  -- Ralph Waldo Emerson, - from The Conduct of Life...
• Absence makes the heart forget.