I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.

Although our love is waning, let us stand by the lone border of the lake once more, together in that hour of gentleness. When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.

One often hears of a horse that shivers with terror, or of a dog that howls at something a mans eyes cannot see, and men who live primitive lives where instinct does the work of reason are fully conscious,of many things we cannot perceive at all. As life becomes more orderly, more deliberate, the supernatural world sinks farther away.

And many a poor man that has roved Loved and thought himself beloved From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.

Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.

What do we know but that we face one another in this place?