I wept as I remembered how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. – Callimachus

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past–
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove–
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. – Lord (George Gordon) Byron

Ah tell me not that memory sheds gladness over the past; what is recalled by faded flowers save that they did not last? – Letitia Elizabeth Landon