Thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, / In some melodious plot / of beechen green, and shadows numberless, / Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

Without the meed of some melodious tear.

...you want the sweetness of our beginning without the bitterness of our struggle - what are you asking - do you want light without shadow? ...

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

The summer night was settling upon the neighborhood like a dark lace veil, casting dappled shadows on the roofs and sidewalks and lawns.

A man typically lights a scene too much, because it makes no matter what you show, a man always wants to see more. A woman understands darkness and shadows