But He Who Loveliness Within

Eternity Is Not An Everlasting Flux Of Time, But Time Is As A Short Parenthesis In A Long Period.

Wicked Is Not Much Worse Than Indiscreet.

Since You Would Save None Of Me, I Bury Some Of You.

I Wonder By My Troth, What Thou, And I Did, Till We Loved? Were We Not Weaned Till Then? But Sucked On Country Pleasures, Childishly? Or Snorted We In The Seven Sleepers' Den?

To Know And Feel All This And Not Have The Words To Express It Makes A Human A Grave Of His Own Thoughts.