"It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy cita..." — John Keats

Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.

Land and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever.