I Have A Rendezvous With Life.

Never Love With All Your Heart, It Only Ends In Aching.

The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible Thing; They Lie Who Say That Death Is Worse.

For We Must Be One Thing Or The Other, An Asset Or A Liability, The Sinew In Your Wing To Help You Soar, Or The Chain To Bind You To Earth.

Yet Do I Marvel At This Curious Thing:/ To Make A Poet Black, And Bid Him Sing!

Whatever Lives Is Granted Breath But By The Grace And Sufferance Of Death.