Whence? Wither? Why? How? -

Nothing Which Does Not Transport Is Poetry. The Lyre Is A Winged Instrument.

Thoughts There Are, That Need No Embodying, No Form, No Expression. It Is Enough To Hint At Them Vaguely; A Word, And They Are Heard And Seen.

Slander Is The Solace Of Malignity.

Abuse Of Words Is The Foundation Of Ideology.

Without Duty, Life Is Soft And Boneless.