with peace you force all the restless work to end;
those who exalt you see and understand,
and he is sound of mind who honours you.
You cut the thread of tired thoughts, for so
you offer calm in your moist shade; you send
to this low sphere the dreams where we ascend
up to the highest, where I long to go.
Shadow of death that brings to quiet close
all miseries that plague the heart and soul,
for those in pain the last and best of cures;
you heal the flesh of its infirmities,
dry and our tears and shut away our toil,
and free the good from wrath and fretting cares.
― Michelangelo Buonarroti, Complete Poems and Selected Letters
The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden,
a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it.
You and you alone make me feel that I am alive.
Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.
― George Edward Moore
Soft, dusky twilight by the shores of Lake Ontario in October.
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