Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.

How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.

Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.

Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young We loved each other and were ignorant.

If what I say resonates with you, it's merely because we're branches of the same tree.

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.

Everything we look upon is blest.