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There are no fields of amaranth on this side of the grave: there are no voices, O Rhodop?! that are not soon mute, however tuneful: there is no name, with whatever emphasis of passionate love repeated, of which the echo is not faint at last.
--
"Aesop and Rhodop?", I

 

Walter Savage Landor

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We wake and whisper awhile,
But, the day gone by,
Silence and sleep like fields
Of amaranth lie.

 

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Our minds are susceptible to the influence of external voices, telling us what we require to be satisfied, voices that may drown our the faint sounds emitted from our souls, and distract us from the careful, arduous task of accurately naming our priorities.

 

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Here, on this side of the grave,
Here, should we labor and love.

 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky,
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To faint in his light, and to die.

 

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There are two moments in the life of any fag that you can never forget: your first kiss with another man and your first argument with a heterosexual friend that doesn't get the difference between being a homosexual and wanting to be a woman. On first sight I can't calibrate which will be repeated more times during our sexually emancipated lifetime. Lucky enough, I can tell which we all prefer to be repeated: the argument with the heterosexual friend... if it ends in a long , wet, passionate kiss.

 

Miss Shangay Lily