Might, Could, Would - They Are Contemptible

I Carry My Unwritten Poems In Cipher On My Face!

I Like Not Only To Be Loved, But To Be Told That I Am Loved; The Realm Of Silence Is Large Enough Beyond The Grave.

Joy And Sorrow Are Both My Perpetual Companions, But The Joy Is Called Past And The Sorrow Present.

... It Is Because Sympathy Is But A Living Again Through Our Own Past In A New Form, That Confession Often Prompts A Response Of Confession.

Pity That Consequences Are Determined Not By Excuses But By Actions!