No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent MillayUpon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts; They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.
Edna St. Vincent Millay