To What Will Love Not Stoop!

What Is This Love That More Than All The Cursed Deadly Or Any Other Of Its Great Movers So Moves The Soul And Soul What Is This Soul That More Than By Any Of Its Great Movers Is By Love So Moved?

We Lose Our Hair, Our Teeth! Our Bloom, Our Ideals.

For The Only Way One Can Speak Of Nothing Is To Speak Of It As Though It Were Something, Just As The Only Way One Can Speak Of God Is To Speak Of Him As Though He Were A Man, Which To Be Sure He Was, In A Sense, For A Time, And As The Only Way One Can Speak Of Man, Even Our Anthropologists Have Realized That, Is To Speak Of Him As Though He Were A Termite.

I Shall State Silences More Competently Than Ever A Better Man Spangled The Butterflies Of Vertigo.

Do You Always Believe In The Life To Come? Mine Was Always That.