That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one capable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.” —Shakespeare, Hamlet, act IV scene VII
Love never fails.” —1 Corinthians 13:4
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, —- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! —- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet 43
In Macon, it is ‘Where do you go to church?’
In Augusta they want your grandmother’s maiden name.
But in Savannah, the first question is ‘What would you like to drink?’” —John Berendt, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
When you know, you just know.
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.” —Pablo Neruda, from “Lovely One”