Oh! To Be A Flower Nodding In

I Should Like To Bring A Case To Trial: Prosperity Versus Beauty, Cash Registers Teetering In A Balance Against The Comfort Of The Soul.

Don’t Ask A Writer What He’s Working On. It’s Like Asking Someone With Cancer On The Progress Of His Disease.

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

Not A Softness Anywhere About Me, Only Whalebone And Brocade.

Hate Is Ravening Vulture Beaks Descending On A Place Of Skulls.