Eve Is A Twofold Mystery.

What I Do And What I Dream Include Thee, As The Wine Must Taste Of Its Own Grapes.

The Greeks Said Grandly In Their Tragic Phrase, 'let No One Be Called Happy Till His Death;' To Which I Would Add, 'let No One, Till His Death, Be Called Unhappy.'

Whatever's Lost, It First Was Won.

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways.

The Denial Of Contemporary Genius Is The Rule Rather Than The Exception. No One Counts The Eagles In The Nest, Till There Is A Rush Of Wings; And Lo! They Are Flown.