"She walks in Beauty, like the night,Of cloudless limes and starry skies;And all that's best of dark and bright, Meet in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellowed to that tender light, Which Heaven to gaudy day denies." -George Gordon Lord Byron
I went to confront noisy neighbours, only to find the windows dark, stuck with two notes. The ghost, too, had "gone fishing". Something still whistled. — Liminality
