People Could Put Up With Being Bitten

Let My Country Die For Me.

Winds Of May, That Dance On The Sea, Dancing A Ring-around In Glee From Furrow To Furrow, While Overhead The Foam Flies Up To Be Garlanded, In Silvery Arches Spanning The Air, Saw You My True Love Anywhere? Welladay! Welladay! For The Winds Of May! Love Is Unhappy When Love Is Away!

Poetry, Even When Apparently Most Fantastic, Is Always A Revolt Against Artifice, A Revolt, In A Sense, Against Actuality.

British Beatitudes! ... Beer, Beef, Business, Bibles, Bulldogs, Battleships, Buggery And Bishops.

Love (understood As The Desire Of Good For Another) Is In Fact So Unnatural A Phenomenon That It Can Scarcely Repeat Itself The Soul Being Unable To Become Virgin Again And Not Having Energy Enough To Cast Itself Out Again Into The Ocean Of Another S Soul.