Mark! Where His Carnage And His Conquests

There's Not A Joy The World Can Give Like That It Takes Away.

On The Ear Drops The Light Drip Of The Suspended Oar.

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me; I Have Not Flattered Its Rank Breath, Nor Bowed To Its Idolatries A Patient Knee, Nor Coined My Cheek To Smiles,-nor Cried Aloud In Worship Of An Echo.

Hatred Is The Madness Of The Heart.

Life Is Too Short For Chess.