The Ode Lives Upon The Ideal, The

Women Play With Their Beauty As Children Do With Their Knives. They Wound Themselves With It.

Symmetry Is Tedious, And Tedium Is The Very Basis Of Mourning. Despair Yawns.

The Transept Belfry And The Two Towers Were To Him Three Great Cages, The Birds In Which, Taught By Him, Would Sing For Him Alone. Yet It Was These Same Bells Which Had Made Him Deaf; But Mothers Are Often Fondest Of The Child Who Has Made Them Suffer Most.

It Is God Who Makes Woman Beautiful, It Is The Devil Who Makes Her Pretty.

What I Feel For You Seems Less Of Earth And More Of A Cloudless Heaven.