‘But you do believe, don’t you,’ Rose implored him, you think it’s true?’ ‘Of course it’s true,’ the Boy said. ‘What else could there be?’ he went scornfully on. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘it’s the only thing that fits. These atheists, they don’t know nothing. Of course there’s Hell. Flames and damnation,’ he said with his eyes on the dark shifting water and the lightning and the lamps going out above the black struts of the Palace Pier, ‘torments.’ ‘And Heaven too,’ Rose said with anxiety, while the rain fell interminably on. ‘Oh, maybe,’ the Boy said, ‘maybe.’

— Brighton rock

When We Two Parted

By Lord Byron

When we two parted    In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted    To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow— It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. The vows are all broken, And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken, And share it in shame.

They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o’er me— Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well— Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met— In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?— With silence and tears.

← Back to poems