I Love All Waste And Solitary Places.

Image Of Rugged Cliffs And So Thy Thoughts, When Thou Art Gone, Love Itself Shall Slumber On.

As Belief Is A Passion Of The Mind, No Degree Of Criminality Is Attachable To Disbelief.

I Love All Waste And Solitary Places; Where We Taste The Pleasure Of Believing What We See Is Boundless, As We Wish Our Souls To Be.

Cold Hopes Swarm Like Worms Within Our Living Clay.

O Heart, And Mind, And Thoughts! What Thing Do You Hope To Inherit In The Grave Below?