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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.
--
The First Kiss of Love, st. 7 (1806)

 

Lord Byron

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Society friendship and love
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O had I the wings of a dove
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William Cowper

 

So what's one little kiss, one tiny little touch?
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Peter Gabriel

 

Surely there is a fitness in the institution of the Lord's Supper as a standing memorial by which the church at large may commemorate the grandest act, and by which the heart of each individual believer may be reminded of his dearest friend. You, who have learned to love the Saviour, will prize His ordinance for the Saviour's sake. You who rejoice in the salvation purchased by His dying, will not fail with gratitude and faith to show the Lord's death until He come.

 

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Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope,
And Hope kiss'd Love, and Love drew in her breath
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Alfred (Lord) Tennyson

 

The black arrowed swoop of the moment swung high into the unceilinged future, ten, fifty, sixty years, may be: then, past seeing, up to that warmthless unconsidered mock-time, when nothing shall be left but the memorial that fits all (except, if there be, the most unhappiest) of human kind: I was not, I lived and loved, I am not.

 

Eric Rucker Eddison