So the lover must struggle for words.

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

For last year's words belong to last year's language, And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.

I'm proof against that word failure. I've seen behind it. The only failure a man ought to fear is failure of cleaving to the purpose he sees to be best.