Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal. – William Shakespeare, The Twelfth Night
It seems a fantastic paradox, but it is nevertheless a most important truth, that no architecture can be truly noble which is not imperfect. – John Ruskin
The place is all awave with trees, Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded, Acacias having drunk the lees Of the night-dew, fain headed, And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem The fittest foliage for a dream. – Elizabeth Barrett Browning