My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing

What Frightens Me Is That Men Are Content With What Is Not Life At All.

O Rose, Who Dares To Name Thee? No Longer Roseate Now, Nor Soft, Nor Sweet, But Pale, And Hard, And Dry, As Stubblewheat, Kept Seven Years In A Drawer, Thy Titles Shame Thee.

Whoever Lives True Life, Will Love True Love.

Souls Are Dangerous Things To Carry Straight Through All The Spilt Saltpetre Of This World.

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.