Sooner Earth / Might go round Heaven, and the strait girth of Time / Inswathe the fulness of Eternity, / Than language grasp the infinite of Love.

The under-scent of hidden violets among moss flowed potently upon the quiet air, mingled with strong pine-odours and the salt breath of the gently heaving sea,

With plants of the kind we may compare the wonder-working moonwort (Botrychium lunaria), which was said to open locks and to unshoe horses that trod on it, a notion which Du Bartas thus mentions in his Divine Weekes – "Horses that, feeding on the grassy hills, Tread upon moonwort with their hollow heels, Though lately shod, at night go barefoot home, Their maister musing where their shoes become.

“Jake always acts so entitled. Like he deserves her—like I don't.” “But she's really into you, right?” Alex asked me. “Astrid?” I nodded.