1
To remember love after long sleep; to turn again to poetry after a year in the market place, or to youth after resignation to drowsy and stiffening age; to remember what once you thought life could hold, after telling over with muddied and calculating fingers what it has offered; this is music, made after long silence. The soul flexes its wings, and, clumsy as any fledgling, tries the air againMary Stewart
2
Every man carries the seed of his own death, and you will not be more than a man. You will have everything; you cannot have more…Mary Stewart