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‘I had a theory that love was about paying attention. It's the one thing you can't buy or fake or make up for at the last minute. So the things that meant the most to me were the little details that told you someone had been paying attention, memorising your random preferences, letting you...

"The moon, like a flower in heaven’s high bower, With silent delight sits and smiles on the night." Moonlit landscape by Arthur Parton (1842–1914)

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You rode the summer plains with heart in a couplet, And found a wintry room with nothing but a dying hearth; You craved for the memory of a hurtling rivulet, And all you are left with are clogs of unmoving tired earth