Find The Key Emotion; This May Be

It Takes A Genius To Whine Appealingly.

His Hand Took Hold Of Hers, And As She Said Something Low In His Ear He Turned Toward Her With A Rush Of Emotion. I Think That Voice Held Him Most, With Its Fluctuating, Feverish Warmth, Because It Couldn’t Be Over-dreamed —that Voice Was A Deathless Song.

I May Turn Out An Intellectual, But I'll Never Write Anything But Mediocre Poetry.

I Am A Woman And My Business Is To Hold Things Together. My Business Is To Tear Them Apart.

A Squalid Phantasmagoria Of Breath