Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
Youth is stranger than fiction.
The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.
All the little emptiness of love!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one who swam ere rivers were begun, immense of fishy form and mind, squamous omnipotent, and kind.
Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?