Judge Tenderly Of Me.

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

Beauty Is Not Caused, It Is; Chase It And It Ceases, Chase It Not And It Abides.

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

Pain Has An Element Of Blank