Atlantis Will Rise Again.

There Is A Grace Of Life Which Is Still Yours, My Dear Europe.

What Can We Do When Even The Public Conveyances Sing? How Can We Go Anywhere, Even Cross-town How Get Out Of Anywhere

Forgive Me If I Sleep Until I Wake Up.

My Life Has Been Given Its Orders: The Seasons Seize The Soul And The Body, And Make Mock Of Any Dispersed Effort. The Hour Of Death Is The Only Trespass

Knowledge Is The Harvest Of Attention