All lovely things will have an ending, All lovely things will fade and die; And youth, thats now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by. – Conrad Aiken
I cannot write of things which even impassioned breath cannot utter. Autumn is coming with its days of gold, its days of reverie and of you—oh, such delightful hours that my heart burns within me at the anticipation. – Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens