“ Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space. ”
We love the things we love for what they are.
~ Robert Frost
The heart can think of no devotionGreater than being shore to the ocean-Holding the curve of one position,Counting an endless repetition.
I'd like to get away from earth awhileAnd then come back to it and begin over.May no fate wilfully misunderstand meAnd half grant what I wish and snatch me awayNot to return. Earth's the right place for love:I don't know where it's likely to go better.
Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?
