I Find A Fascination, Like The Fascination

It's An Odd Thing About This Universe That, Though We All Disagree With Each Other, We Are All Of Us Always In The Right.

What Things There Are To Write, If One Could Only Write Them! My Mind Is Full Of Gleaming Thought; Gay Moods And Mysterious, Moth-like Meditations Hover In My Imagination, Fanning Their Painted Wings. But Always The Rarest, Those Streaked With Azure And The Deepest Crimson, Flutter Away Beyond My Reach.

The Lusts And Greeds Of The Body Scandalize The Soul; But It Has To Come To Heel.

Self-respecting People Do Not Care To Peep At Their Reflections In Unexpected Mirrors, Or To See Themselves As Others See Them.

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.