Only Imagination That Towers Can Reproduce Evanescence

We Don't Like Flowers That Do Not Wilt; They Must Die, And Nine She-camel Hairs Aid Memory.

I See No Reason For Calling My Work Poetry Except That There Is No Other Category In Which To Put It.

Writing Is An Undertaking For The Modest.

As For Butterflies, I Can Hardly Conceive Of One's Attending Upon You; But To Question The Congruence Of The Complement Is Vain, If It Exists.

The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing.