“But, alas, the heart forgets;
the heart is distracted;
and May time passes;
summer lends;
the storm break over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old;
while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up and pile up,
till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused:
dust gathers in it;
cobwebs multiply;
the walls darken and fall into ruin and decay;
the memory perished...”
