Through The Dancing Poppies Stole

Turn The Key Deftly In The Oiled Wards, And Seal The Hushed Casket Of My Soul.

I Must Choose Between Despair And Energy──i Choose The Latter.

My Mind Has Been The Most Discontented And Restless One That Ever Was Put Into A Body Too Small For It.

I Have Good Reason To Be Content, For Thank God I Can Read And Perhaps Understand Shakespeare To His Depths.

It Is A Flaw In Happiness To See Beyond Our Bourn, - It Forces Us In Summer Skies To Mourn, It Spoils The Singing Of The Nightingale.