Our Distrust Is Very Expensive.

Most Of The Shadows Of This Life Are Caused By Standing In One's Own Sunshine.

We Are Adapted To Infinity. We Are Hard To Please, And Love Nothing Which Ends: And In Nature Is No End; But Every Thing, At The End Of One Use, Is Lifted Into A Superior, And The Ascent Of These Things Climbs Into Daemonic And Celestial Natures.

Test Of The Poet Is Knowledge Of Love, For Eros Is Older Than Saturn Or Jove; Never Was Poet, Of Late Or Of Yore, Who Was Not Tremulous With Love-lore.

Let Us Draw A Lesson From Nature, Which Always Works By Short Ways. When The Fruit Is Ripe, It Falls.

Every Word Was Once A Poem. Every New Relation Is A New Word.