And long we try in vain to speak and act Our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well — but ’tis not true! - Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits — on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand . . .

With women the heart argues, not the mind.

I am past thirty, and three parts iced over.