Mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is Love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.

For the gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.

But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence. in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i…

And I was strong, strong in the sun I thought I'd see when day is done. Now I'm weaker than the palest blue Oh, so weak in the need for you.

'Broken things are powerful.' Things about to break are stronger still. The last shot from the brittle bow is truest.