Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
Alfred Lord TennysonStrong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove.
Alfred Lord TennysonOf happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.
Alfred Lord Tennyson