Careful Words

inhabit (v.)

When true hearts lie wither'd

And fond ones are flown,

Oh, who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): The Last Rose of Summer.

Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!

What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!

What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!

Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks,

Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon,

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea:

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,

As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4.