If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Death is the end of life; ah why Should life all labour be? . . . All things have rest, and ripen toward the graveIn silence - ripen, fall, and cease; Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson -
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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson -