My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe

For Axioms In Philosophy Are Not Axioms Until They Are Proved Upon Our Pulses.

You Are Always New. The Last Of Your Kisses Was Even The Sweetest; The Last Smile The Brightest; The Last Movement The Gracefullest.

There Is Nothing Stable In The World; Uproar's Your Only Music.

Where Are The Songs Of Spring? Aye, Where Are They? Think Not Of Them; Thou Has Thy Music Too.

I Have Nothing To Speak Of But My Self-and What Can I Say But What I Feel.