And all I loved I loved alone.

The best things in life make you sweaty.

It was many and many a year agoIn a kingdom by the seaThat a maiden there lived whom you may knowBy the name of ANNABEL LEEAnd this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me.I was a child and she was a childIn this kingdom by the seaBut we loved with a love that was more than love-I and my Annabel LeeWith a love that the winged seraphs of heavenCoveted her and me.And this was the reason that long agoIn this kingdom by the seaA wind blew out of a cloud chillingMy beautiful Annabel LeeSo that her highborn kinsman cameAnd bore her away from meTo shut her up in a sepulchreIn this kingdom by the sea.The angels not half so happy in heavenWent envying her and me-Yes- that was the reason as all men knowIn this kingdom by the seaThat the wind came out of the cloud by nightChilling and killing my Annabel Lee.But our love it was stronger by far than the loveOf those who were older than we-Of many far wiser than we-And neither the angels in heaven aboveNor the demons down under the seaCan ever dissever my soul from the soulOf the beautiful Annabel Lee.For the moon never beams without bringing me dreamsOf the beautiful Annabel LeeAnd the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyesOf the beautiful Annabel LeeAnd so all the night-tide I lie down by the sideOf my darling- my darling- my life and my brideIn the sepulchre there by the seaIn her tomb by the sounding sea.

From childhoods hour I have not been. As others were I have not seen. As others saw I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved I loved alone.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

Dreams in their vivid coloring of life As in that fleeting shadowy misty strife Of semblance with reality which brings To the delirious eye more lovely things Of Paradise and Love- and all our own Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

Deep into that darkness peering long I stood there wondering fearing doubting dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.-Edgar Allan Poe

The ninety and nine are with dreams content but the hope of the world made new is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.

I have been happy though in a dream.I have been happy-and I love the themeDreams in their vivid colouring of lifeAs in that fleeting shadowy misty strife