So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At

Beauty Is Not The Cause Of Something, It Is What It Is.

Drunkards Of Summer Are Quite As Frequent As Drunkards Of Wine.

Portrait The World Spreads Out On Either Side No Farther Than The Heart Is Wide.

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes. The Nerves Sit Ceremonious, Like Tombs.

Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come I Open Every Door.