Hail To Thee, Blithe Spirit!

A Story Of Particular Facts Is A Mirror Which Obscures And Distorts That Which Should Be Beautiful; Poetry Is A Mirror Which Makes Beautiful That Which It Distorts.

What Is Love? It Is That Powerful Attraction Towards All That We Conceive, Or Fear, Or Hope Beyond Ourselves.

To Hope Till Hope Creates From Its Own Wreck The Thing It Contemplates.

Just A Tender Sense Of My Own Process, That Holds Something Of My Connection With The Divine.

Man's Yesterday May Never Be Like His Morrow; Nought May Endure But Mutability.