Poetry Is As Precise A Thing As

He Dreamed Of Funeral Love, But Dreams Crumble And The Tomb Abides

There Was An Air Of Indifference About Them, A Calm Produced By The Gratification Of Every Passion; And Through Their Manners Were Suave, One Could Sense Beneath Them That Special Brutality Which Comes From The Habit Of Breaking Down Half-hearted Resistances That Keep One Fit And Tickle One’s Vanity—the Handling Of Blooded Horses, The Pursuit Of Loose Women.

A Thing Derided Is A Thing Dead; A Laughing Man Is Stronger Than A Suffering Man.

She Wanted To Die, But She Also Wanted To Live In Paris.

But, In Her Life, Nothing Was Going To Happen. Such Was The Will Of God! The Future Was A Dark Corridor, And At The Far End The Door Was Bolted.