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1819·London, England
I have an habitual feeling of my real life having past, and that I am leading a posthumous existence.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; / Conspiring with him how to load and bless / With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run.
Virginia Woolf·1929The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
Ralph Waldo Emerson·1846I wiped away the weeds and foam, And fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.
Kobayashi Issa·1819This world of dew / is only a world of dew — / and yet... and yet...
