All love is sweet, Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever. . . . . . . They who inspire it most are fortunate, As I am now; but those who feel it most Are happier still.1
Peter was dull; he was at first Dull,oh so dull, so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed, Still with this dulness was he cursed! Dull,beyond all conception, dull.