Joy Rises In Me, Like A Summer's

That Willing Suspension Of Disbelief For The Moment, Which Constitutes Poetic Faith.

Every Crime Has, In The Moment Of Its Perpetration, Its Own Avenging Angel-dark Misgiving, An Ominous Sinking At The Inmost Heart.

For She Belike Hath Drunken Deep Of All The Blessedness Of Sleep.

In Xanadu Did Kubla Khan A Stately Pleasure-dome Decree: Where Alph, The Sacred River, Ran Through Caverns Measureless To Man Down To A Sunless Sea.

Love Is The Admiration And Cherishing Of The Amiable Qualities Of The Beloved Person, Upon The Condition Of Yourself Being The Object Of Their Action.