I have too many eyes to keep property and too many harsh words to recover from any positive reception.
"In my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.." Excerpt from: "What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
