Souls Are Dangerous Things To Carry Straight

This Race Is Never Grateful: From The First, One Fills Their Cup At Supper With Pure Wine, Which Back They Give At Cross-time On A Sponge, In Bitter Vinegar.

My Sun Sets To Raise Again.

Happy Are All Free Peoples, Too Strong To Be Dispossessed. But Blessed Are Those Among Nations Who Dare To Be Strong For The Rest!

Eyes Of Gentianellas Azure, Staring, Winking At The Skies.

When We First Met And Loved, I Did Not Build Upon The Event With Marble. . . .