As in the soft and sweet eclipse. 
  When soul meets soul on lover’s lips.
Prometheus Unbound, Act iv.  P.B.  SHELLEY.

  O Love!  O fire! once he drew
  With one long kiss my whole soul through
  My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Fatima.  A. TENNYSON.

A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth and love. Don Juan, Canto II.  LORD BYRON.

  Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
  And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? 
  Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.—­
  Her lips suck forth my soul; see, where it flies!—­
Faustus.  C. MARLOWE.

I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse
The tyrant’s wish, “that mankind only had
One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce;”
My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,
And much more tender on the whole than fierce;
It being (not now, but only while a lad)
That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
To kiss them all at once, from North to South.
Don Juan, Canto VI.  LORD BYRON.

Or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father
And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
Shakes all our buds from growing.
Cymbeline, Act i.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

Eyes, look your last: 
Arms, take your last embrace; and lips,
O! you,
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.
Romeo and Juliet, Act v.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

KNOWLEDGE.

Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
The Task, Bk.  VI.  W. COWPER.

  All things I thought I knew; but now confess
  The more I know I know, I know the less.
Works, Bk.  VI.  J. OWEN.

  In vain sedate reflections we would make
  When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.
Moral Essays, Epistle I.  A. POPE.

LABOR.

  No man is born into the world whose work
  Is not born with him.
A Glance Behind the Curtain.  J.R.  LOWELL.

  If little labor, little are our gaines: 
  Man’s fortunes are according to his paines.
Hesperides:  No Paines, No Gaines.  R. HERRICK.

  Who first invented work, and bound the free
  And holiday-rejoicing spirit down

* * * * *

  To that dry drudgery at the desk’s dead wood?

* * * * *

Sabbathless Satan!
Work.  C. LAMB.