So The Lover Must Struggle For Words.

There Is, It Seems To Us, At Best, Only A Limited Value In The Knowledge Derived From Experience.

In Our Rhythm Of Earthly Life We Tire Of Light. We Are Glad When The Day Ends, When The Play Ends; And Ecstasy Is Too Much Pain.

Till Human Voices Wake Us, And We Drown.

Philosophy: A Purple Bullfinch In A Lilac Tree.

In A Mind Charged With An Eager Purpose And An Unfinished Vindictiveness, There Is No Room For New Feelings.