Its visits, like those of angels, short, and far between.

How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.

What though my wingèd hours of bliss have been, / Like angel-visits, few and far between?

A short story is the shortest distance between two points; a novel is the scenic route.

The word far is too short for me to spell.

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.