"I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I co..." — John Keats

Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.

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

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.