I Was Always A Lover

Nobody Knows Like A Woman How To Say Things At The Same Time Sweet And Profound. Sweetness And Depth, This Is All Of Woman; This Is All Of Heaven.

A Bird Sings, A Child Prattles, But It Is The Same Hymn; Hymn Indistinct, Inarticulate, But Full Of Profound Meaning.

Where No Plan Is Laid, Where The Disposal Of Time Is Surrendered Merely To The Chance Of Incident, Chaos Will Soon Reign.

The Aim Of Art Is Almost Divine: To Bring To Life Again If It Is Writing History, To Create If It Is Writing Poetry.

Style Is The Substance Of The Subject Called Unceasingly To The Surface.