Some years ago when I was struggling with life with someone who seemed incapable of saying anything that wasn't pure invention, I came across this, by Coventry Patmore:

"Magna Est Veritas"

Here, in this little Bay,

Full of tumultuous life and great repose,

Where, twice a day,

The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes,

Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,

I sit me down.

For want of me the world's course will not fail:

When all its work is done, the lie shall rot;

The truth is great, and shall prevail,

When none cares whether it prevail or not.


It wasn't just the reassurance about truth that appealed to me, but the way you can hear the waves coming up the beach and retreating, in the rhythm of the lines.