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The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave;
To the dark and the endless skies
Roberta Flack, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

God, how we get our fingers in each other's clay. That's friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of each other.
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

The father hesitated only a moment. He felt the vague pain in his chest. If I run, he thought, what will happen? Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before Death is what counts. And we've done fine tonight. Even Death can't spoil it.
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.
Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Roberta Flack