"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised."
Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning