I Was Last In Rome In Ad

When The Immense Drugged Universe Explodes In A Cascade Of Unendurable Colour And Leaves Us Gasping Naked, This Is No More Than The Ectasy Of Chaos: Hold Fast, With Both Hands, To That Royal Love Which Alone, As We Know Certainly, Restores Fragmentation Into True Being. Ecstasy Of Chaos

Fact Is Not Truth, But A Poet Who Wilfully Defies Fact Cannot Achieve Truth.

The Decline Of True Taste For Food Is The Beginning Of A Decline In A National Culture As A Whole. When People Have Lost Their Authentic Personal Taste, They Lose Their Personality And Become The Instruments Of Other People's Wills.

Every Fairy Child May Keep Two Strong Ponies And Ten Sheep; All Have Houses, Each His Own, Built Of Brick Or Granite Stone; They Live On Cherries, They Run Wild I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child.

One Smile Relieves A Heart That Grieves.