"Such things and deeds as are not written down are covered with darkness, and given over to the sepulchre of oblivion."

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We, drinking love at the furthest springs, Covered with love as a covering tree, We had grown as gods, as the gods above, Filled from the heart to the lips with love, Held fast in his hands, clothed warm with his wings, O love, my love, had you loved but me!

— Algernon Charles Swinburne