Beauty Without Grace Is The

Words Are Alive. Cut Them And They Bleed.

Nature Is What You May Do. There Is Much You May Not Do.

We Pass For What We Are.

Fear Defeats More People Than Any Other One Thing In The World.

I Wish The Days To Be As Centuries, Loaded, Fragrant. Now We Reckon Them As Bank-days, By Some Debt Which Is To Be Paid Us, Or Which We Are To Pay, Or Some Pleasure We Are To Taste.