Because sometimes, in your darkest moments, when the world goes whispering to its own, "This anguish pierces to the bone;" And tender friends go sighing round, "What love can ever cure this wound?" Your days go on, your days go on.
When you will indulge in your sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair,
It's sometimes quite nice to have a bit of cheese.
Always carry a cheese knife.