You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. - John Keats

You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.

Nothing ever becomes real till experienced – even a proverb is no proverb until your life has illustrated it

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne,
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific, and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise,
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.