Although we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries.
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
Life has no friend.
Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.
Man has never been the same since God died.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?