All deep things are song. It seems somehow the very central essence of us, song; as if all the rest were but wrappages and hulls!
Thomas CarlyleCherish what is dearest while you have it near you, and wait not till it is far away. Blind and deaf that we are; oh, think, if thou yet love anybody living, wait not till death sweep down the paltry little dust clouds and dissonances of the moment, and all be made at last so mournfully clear and beautiful, when it is too late.
Thomas Carlyle