How Alike Are The Groans Of Love

No, My Secrets Are Of The Grave And Must Be Kept. And This Is How I Sometimes Think Of Myself, As A Great Explorer Who Has Discovered Some Extraordinary Land From Which He Can Never Return To Give His Knowledge To The World: But The Name Of This Land Is Hell.

How, Unless You Drink As I Do, Could You Hope To Understand The Beauty Of An Old Indian Woman Playing Dominoes With A Chicken?

The Consul Felt A Pang. Ah, To Have A Horse, And Gallop Away, Singing, To Someone You Loved Perhaps, Into The Heart Of All The Simplicity And Peace In The World; Was That Not Like The Opportunity Afforded Man By Life Itself? Of Course Not. Still, Just For A Moment, It Had Seemed That It Was.

Fear Ringed By Doubt Is My Eternal Moon.

What Is Man But A Little Soul Holding Up A Corpse?