If Thou Lookest On The Lime-leaf, Thou

Each Violet Peeps From Its Dwelling To Gaze At The Bright Stars Above.

You Talk Of Our Having An Idea; We Do Not Have An Idea. The Idea Has Us, And Martyrs Us, And Scourges Us, And Drives Us Into The Arena To Fight And Die For It, Whether We Want To Or Not.

I Do Not Murmur, Even If My Heart Break.

In Politics, As In Life, We Must Above All Things Wish Only For The Attainable.

Oh What Lies There Are In Kisses! And Their Guile So Well Prepared! Sweet The Snaring Is; But This Is Sweeter Still, To Be Ensnared.