I Work All Day, And Get Half-drunk

But, O, Photography! As No Art Is,faithful And Disappointing! That Recordsdull Days As Dull, And Hold-it Smiles As Frauds,and Will Not Censor Blemishes,like Washing-lines, And Hall's-distemper Boards

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

What Are Days For? Days Are Where We Live.

In Everyone There Sleeps A Sense Of Life Lived According To Love.

Boys Dream Of Native Girls Who Bring Breadfruit, Whatever They Are.