To Hate Excellence Is To

He Sees Himself In His Lover As If In A Mirror, Not Knowing Whom He Sees, And When They Are Together, He Too Is Released From Pain, And When Apart, He Longs As He Himself Is Longed For; For Reflected In His Heart Is Love's Image, Which Is Love's Answer. But He Calls It, And Believes It, Not Love But Friendship.

True Friends Share Everything, Except The Past Before They Met.

Clouds Of Black Birds Rose Up Wailing And Screaming, Like The Thoughts Of My Heart.

It Gives Me No Joy To Be Praised At The Expense Of A Better Artist, By Someone Who Does Not Know The Difference Or Who Thinks Me Too Vain To Be Aware Of It Myself.

Death Was The Price Of Life.