My Book And Heart Shall Never Part.

At First Laying Down, As A Fact Fundamental, That Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.

A Handful Of Red Sand From The Hot Clime Of Arab Deserts Brought, Within This Glass Becomes The Spy Of Time, The Minister Of Thought.

The Low Desire, The Base Design That Makes Another's Virtues Less.

We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling The Sweetest Flowers Of Life Into Potions Which, After All, Do Not Immortalize, But Only Intoxicate.

No Literature Is Complete Until The Language It Was Written In Is Dead.