I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another. - Lord Byron

She was like me in lineaments — her eyes
Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone
Even of her voice, they said were like to mine;
But soften'd all, and temper'd into beauty;
She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind
To comprehend the universe: nor these
Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine,
Pity, and smiles, and tears — which I had not;
And tenderness — but that I had for her;
Humility — and that I never had.
Her faults were mine — her virtues were her own — I loved her, and destroy'd her!

The heart will break, but broken live on.

Tis strange - but true; for Truth is always strange,
Stranger than Fiction