Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death... - John Keats

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs.

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.

Fine writing, next to doing nothing, is the best thing in the world.