Longing Alone Is Singer To The Lute.

That Which Has Quelled Me, Lives With Me, Accomplice In Catastrophe.

Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare. Let All Who Prate Of Beauty Hold Their Peace, And Lay Them Prone Upon The Earth And Cease To Ponder On Themselves, The While They Stare At Nothing, Intricately Drawn Nowhere In Shapes Of Shifting Lineage; Let Geese Gabble And Hiss, But Heroes Seek Release From Dusty Bondage Into Luminous Air. O Blinding Hour, O Holy, Terrible Day, When First The Shaft Into His Vision Shone Of Light Anatomized! 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.

It's Not True That Life Is One Damn Thing After Another; It Is One Damn Thing Over And Over.

It May Be Said Of Me By Harper & Brothers, That Although I Reject Their Proposals, I Welcome Their Advances.

Gently They Go, The Beautiful, The Tender, The Kind; Quietly They Go, The Intelligent, The Witty, The Brave. I Know. But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.