Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The

When You Came, You Were Like Red Wine And Honey, And The Taste Of You Burnt My Mouth With Its Sweetness.

Moon! Moon! I Am Prone Before You. Pity Me,and Drench Me In Loneliness.

Great Emotion Always Tends To Become Rhythmic, And Out Of That Tendency The Forms Of Art Have Been Evolved. Art Becomes Artificial Only When The Forms Take Precedence Over The Emotion.

Happiness: We Rarely Feel It. I Would Buy It, Beg It, Steal It, Pay In Coins Of Dripping Blood For This One Transcendent Good.

All Books Are Either Dreams Or Swords, You Can Cut, Or You Can Drug, With Words.