A Man Without A Woman Is Like

Nature, Like A Kind And Smiling Mother, Lends Herself To Our Dreams And Cherishes Our Fancies.

Great Blunders Are Often Made, Like Large Ropes, Of A Multitude Of Fibres.

Reality In Strong Doses Frightens.

Be As A Bird Perched On A Frail Branch That She Feels Bending Beneath Her, Still She Sings Away All The Same, Knowing She Has Wings.

O Darkness, The Sky Is A Gloomy Precinct Whose Door You Close, And Whose Key The Soul Owns; And Night Divides Itself In Half, Being Diabolical And Holy, Between Ilis, The Black Angel, And Christ, The Starry Human Being.