Slight as thou art, thou art enough to hide, Like all created things, secrets from me, And stand a barrier to eternity. - Alice Meynell

The smoke of a cigarette, more sensitive in motion than breath or blood, has its waves so multitudinously inflected and reinflected, with such flights and such delays, it flows and bends upon currents of so subtle influence and impulse as to include the most active, impetuous, and lingering curls ever drawn by the finest Oriental hand—and that is not a Hindu hand, nor any hand of Aryan race. The Japanese has captured the curve of the section of a sea-wave—its flow, relaxation, and fall; but this is a single moment, whereas the line of cigarette-smoke in a still room fluctuates in twenty delicate directions.

[R]ight language enlarges the soul as no other power or influence may do.

But, visiting Sea, your love doth press And reach in further than you know, And fills all these, and when you go,
There's loneliness in loneliness.