And Her Voice Is A String Of

You Are Loved. If So, What Else Matters?

My Candle Burns At Both Ends; It Will Not Last The Night; But Ah, My Foes, And Oh, My Friends - It Gives A Lovely Light!

The World Stands Out On Either Side, No Wider Than The Heart Is Wide.

You See, I Am A Poet, And Not Quite Right In The Head, Darling. It’s Only That.

Should At That Moment The Full Moon Step Forth Upon The Hill, And Memories Hard To Bear At Noon, By Moonlight Harder Still, Form In The Shadows Of The Trees, - Things That You Could Not Spare And Live, Or So You Thought, Yet These All Gone, And You Still There, A Man No Longer What He Was, Not Yet The Thing He Planned.