The Angels were all singing out of tune and hoarse with having little else to do, excepting to wind up the sun and moon or curb a runaway young star or two.
The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing "about around and underneath" man, except man himself.
Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Absence - that common cure of love.
For truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.
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Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move his aides, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.