"The South-wind brings Life, sunshine and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire; But over the dead he has no power, The lost, the lost, he cannot restore; And, looking over the hills, I mourn The darling who shall not return."

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Sometimes I pretend to be an octopus.  But then people are like ‘Darren what’re you doing?’ And I just sit there and laugh because they’re not cool enough to be an octopus and I’m just like ‘Hah you’re just jealous because you’re not an octopus.’

— Darren Criss