The more I think of the idea the more am I in love with it.

I am going to have a seraph of a time.

I am going to play the archangel.
I shall always have pleasant memories of Murglebed.

Such an idea could not have germinated in any other atmosphere.

In the scented groves of sunny lands there would have been sown Seeds of Regret, which would have blossomed eventually into Flowers of Despair.