"Senseless is the breast and cold Which relenting love would fold; Bloodless are the veins and chill Which the pulse of pain did fill; Every little living nerve That from bitter words did swerve Round the tortur'd lips and brow, Are like sapless leaflets now Frozen upon December's bough."

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Sometimes you have to let go of the one you love to find out if there is really something there. Sometimes you won't let go of love. More times love won't let go of you. That bitter word, which closed all earthly friendships and finished every feast of love farewell!

— Robert Pollok