But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The

The Excellence Of Every Art Is Its Intensity.

The Imagination May Be Compared To Adam's Dream-he Awoke And Found It Truth.

The Roaring Of The Wind Is My Wife And The Stars Through The Window Pane Are My Children.

My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe Without You.

There Was An Awful Rainbow Once In Heaven: We Know Her Woof, Her Texture; She Is Given In The Dull Catalogue Of Common Things. Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings.