Adversity Is The First Path

Are Not The Mountains, Waves, And Skies As Much A Part Of Me, As I Of Them?

The Bright Sun Was Extinguish'd, And The Stars Did Wander Darkling In The Eternal Space.

Damn Description, It Is Always Disgusting.

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me, But Let Us Part Fair Foes; I Do Believe, Though I Have Found Them Not, That There May Be Words Which Are Things, Hopes Which Will Not Deceive, And Virtues Which Are Merciful, Or Weave Snares For The Failing: I Would Also Deem O'er Others' Griefs That Some Sincerely Grieve; That Two, Or One, Are Almost What They Seem, That Goodness Is No Name, And Happiness No Dream.

I Love The Language, It Sounds As If It Should Be Writ On Satin With Syllables Which Breathe Of The Sweet South