A Little Light, Like A Rushlight /

I Desired My Dust To Be Mingled With Yours Forever And Forever And Forever.

From The Colour The Nature And By The Nature The Sign! Beatific Spirits Welding Together As In One Ash-tree In Ygdrasail.

It Ought To Be Illegal For An Artist To Marry. If The Artist Must Marry Let Him Find Someone More Interested In Art, Or His Art, Or The Artist Part Of Him, Than In Him. After Which Let Them Take Tea Together Three Times A Week.

Haie! Haie! These Were The Swift To Harry; These The Keen-scented; These Were The Souls Of Blood. Slow On The Leash, Pallid The Leash-men!

Colloquial Poetry Is To The Real Art As The Barber's Wax Dummy Is To Sculpture.