“So we'll go no more a-roving so late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, and the moon be still as bright.”

“We'll Go No More A-rovingSo, we'll go no more a-rovingSo late into the night,Though the heart still be as loving,And the moon still be as bright.For the sword outwears its sheath,And the soul wears out the breast,And the heart must pause to breathe,And love itself have rest.Though the night was made for loving,And the day returns too soon,Yet we'll go no more a-rovingBy the light of the moon.”

“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,Yet Grace must still look so.”

“It's the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery.”

“....the sun was still marking the passage of the first bright hour in a history that was not destined to be all so bright.”

“What a great thing, to be loved! What a greater thing still, to love! The heart becomes heroic though passion…if no one loved, the sun would go out.”