Books are delightful society. If you go into a room and find it full of books - even without taking them from the shelves they seem to speak to you, to bid you welcome.
William Ewart Gladstone
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It's written in the surface of her skin,
There's been a baby there, given away in love.
I see it in the little lines
Around her eyes, across her brow.
She'll be drifting away from me now.
She'll shape all the feeling
That's not quite there inside my soul.
Love has gone away now,
Leaving behind an empty hole.
And who am I to try to compete with the din,
As the silence so easily rushes in?
I will fly away.
It was something I only dreamed of,
Something that I'm not quite sure of,
Something that I'll never tell you about.