He was a poet and hated the approximate.
Man please thy maker and be merry set not for this world a cherry.
He was a poet and hated the approximate.
A Dream In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life…
He trusted neither of them as far as he could spit, and he was a poor spitter, lacking both distance…
It is a secret in the Oxford sense. You may tell it to only one person at a time.