Oblige me by taking away that knife. I can't look at the point of it. It reminds me of Roman history. - James Joyce

The fragrant hair,
Falling as through the silence falleth now
Dusk of the air.

Beauty, the splendour of truth, is a gracious presence when the imagination contemplates intensely the truth of its own being or the visible world, and the spirit which proceeds out of truth and beauty is the holy spirit of joy. These are realities and these alone give and sustain life.

Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.