I Am Tired, Beloved, Of Chafing My

When You Came, You Were Like Red Wine And Honey, And The Taste Of You Burnt My Mouth With Its Sweetness.

Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The Soul Of Humanity.

If What We Worship Fail Us, Still The Fire Burns On, And It Is Much To Have Believed.

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.

I Should Like To Bring A Case To Trial: Prosperity Versus Beauty, Cash Registers Teetering In A Balance Against The Comfort Of The Soul.