It Was Not The Apple On The

For Frequent Tears Have Run; The Colours From My Life.

Our Euripides The Human, With His Droppings Of Warm Tears, And His Touchings Of Things Common Till They Rose To Meet The Spheres.

Whatever's Lost, It First Was Won.

What Monster Have We Here? A Great Deed At This Hour Of Day? A Great Just Deed - And Not For Pay? Absurd - Or Insincere?

Books Succeed; And Lives Fail.