Beware The Horns Of A Bull, The

Desire's Wind Blasts The Thorntree But After It Becomes From A Bramblebush To Be A Rose Upon The Rood Of Time.

I Did Not Know Whether I Would Ever Speak To Her Or Not Or, If I Spoke To Her, How I Could Tell Her Of My Confused Adoration. But My Body Was Like A Harp And Her Words And Gestures Were Like Fingers Running Upon The Wires.

Redheaded Women Buck Like Goats.

Beware The Horns Of A Bull, The Heels Of The Horse, And The Smile Of An Englishman.

Civilization May Be Said Indeed To Be The Creation Of Its Outlaws.