Tools have their own integrity.
It is no good my telling you. One never believes other people's experiencem and one is only very gradually convinced by one's own.
I loved you when love was Spring, and May, Loved you when summer deepened into June, and now when autumn yellows all the leaves.
April, the angel of the months, the young love of the year.
What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful.
There are no signposts in the sea.