No One Can Usurp The

I Have An Habitual Feeling Of My Real Life Having Past, And That I Am Leading A Posthumous Existence.

The Genius Of Poetry Must Work Out Its Own Salvation In A Man; It Cannot Be Matured By Law And Precept, But By Sensation And Watchfulness In Itself. That Which Is Creative Must Create Itself.

Land And Sea, Weakness And Decline Are Great Separators, But Death Is The Great Divorcer For Ever.

Heard Melodies Are Sweet, But Those Unheard Are Sweeter; Therefore, Ye Soft Pipes, Play On; Not To The Sensual Ear, But, More Endear'd, Pipe To The Spirit Ditties Of No Tone.

Call The World If You Please "the Vale Of Soul-making." Then You Will Find Out The Use Of The World.