We Give Each Other A

No Man Is An Island Unto Himself.

As Peace Is Of All Goodness, So War Is An Emblem, A Hieroglyphic, Of All Misery.

But He Who Loveliness Within Hath Found, All Outward Loathes, For He Who Color Loves, And Skin, Loves But Their Oldest Clothes.

In Heaven It Is Always Autumn.

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners, Blow Your Trumpets, Angels.