Always Imitate The Behaviour Of The Winners

I Know Him, February's Thrush, And Loud At Eve He Valentines On Sprays That Paw The Naked Bush Where Soon Will Sprout The Thorns And Bines.

Poetry Is Talking On Tiptoe.

The Season Of Love Is The Carnival Of Egoism And It Brings A Touchstone To Our Natures.

Memoirs Are The Backstairs Of History.

And If I Drink Oblivion Of A Day, / So Shorten I The Stature Of My Soul.