Carey

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
― Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Selected Poems

“A Corymbus for Autumn
How are the veins of thee, Autumn, laden?
Umbered juices,
And pulpèd oozes
Pappy out of the cherry-bruises,
Froth the veins of thee, wild, wild maiden.
With hair that musters
In globèd clusters,
In tumbling clusters, like swarthy grapes,
Round thy brow and thine ears o'ershaden;
With the burning darkness of eyes like pansies,
Like velvet pansies
Where through escapes
The splendid might of thy conflagrate fancies;
With robe gold-tawny not hiding the shapes
Of the feet whereunto it falleth down,
Thy naked feet unsandalled;
With robe gold-tawny that does not veil
Feet where the red
Is meshed in the brown,
Like a rubied sun in a Venice-sail.”
― Francis Thompson, Poems of Francis Thompson.

“A woman fallen has no future; a man risen has no past.”
― Eleanor Catton, The Luminaries

“Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.”
― Winston Churchill