I Love You For The Part Of

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

We Can't Separate Our Humanity From Our Poetry.

The Little Cares That Fretted Me, I Lost Them Yesterday Among The Fields Above The Sea, Among The Winds At Play.

And Is It Not The Chief Good Of Money, The Being Free From The Need Of Thinking Of It?

What I Do And What I Dream Include Thee, As The Wine Must Taste Of Its Own Grapes.