Life isn't all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years.

Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.

The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.

That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.

Under my head till morning; but the rain, Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh, Upon the glass and listen for reply.

This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales; Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.

Man has never been the same since God died.