Music My Rampart, And My Only One.

A Grave Is Such A Quiet Place.

Death Devours All Lovely Things; Lesbia With Her Sparrow Shares The Darkness--presently Every Bed Is Narrow.

Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart. I Took Your Thrust, Whereby I Since Am Slain, And I Lie Disheveled In The Grass Apart, A Sodden Thing Bedrenched By Tears And Rain.

When You Publish Something, It Is Very Much As If You Pulled Your Pants Down In Public. If What You Have Written Is Good, Nobody Can Hurt You; If What You Have Written Is Bad, Nobody Can Help You.

Not Truth, But Faith It Is That Keeps The World Alive.