"You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea: The tide of hope swells high within my breast, And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me, Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear, And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear. You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.” ― Ella Wheeler Wilcox
‘The Chestnut Tree cafe was almost empty… It was the lonely hour of fifteen. A tinny music trickled from the telescreens… Winston sat in his usual corner, gazing into an empty glass… Something changed in the music that trickled from the telescreen. A cracked and jeering note, a yellow note, came into it. And then…a voice was singing: Under the spreading chestnut tree I sold you and you sold me… The tears welled up in Winston’s eyes.