Life Is A Quest And Love A

Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare. Fortunate They Who, Though Once Only And Then But Far Away, Have Heard Her Massive Sandal Set On Stone.

Curse Thee, Life, I Will Live With Thee No More! Thou Hast Mocked Me, Starved Me, Beat My Body Sore! And All For A Pledge That Was Not Pledged By Me, I Have Kissed Thy Crust And Eaten Sparingly That I Might Eat Again, And Met Thy Sneers With Deprecations, And Thy Blows With Tears.

There Is No Shelter In You Anywhere.

The First Rose On My Rose-tree Budded, Bloomed, And Shattered, During Sad Days When To Me Nothing Mattered. Grief Or Grief Has Drained Me Clean; Still It Seems A Pity No One Saw,—it Must Have Been Very Pretty.

The Heart Grows Weary After A Little Of What It Loved For A Little While.