We have little time, but all of time is too little, too short a span, too mean a measure, even for this kiss. You have two lips, but I have not two infinities to press—not even one—to hold to taste.
I have but a moment before death, and I would gladly die in this, this kiss, this embrace.
I have not the time to say all that I think, all that I feel. All I am, I give to this instant. Let death envie us with his placed eternity—for one moment, for this present—Love is ours.
Tale Told 