Tell A Man What He May Not

Clouds Of Black Birds Rose Up Wailing And Screaming, Like The Thoughts Of My Heart.

It Gives Me No Joy To Be Praised At The Expense Of A Better Artist, By Someone Who Does Not Know The Difference Or Who Thinks Me Too Vain To Be Aware Of It Myself.

Often Beauty Grows Dull Or Common When Speech Breaks The Mask.

All Tragedies Deal With Fated Meetings; How Else Could There Be A Play? Fate Deals Its Stroke; Sorrow Is Purged, Or Turned To Rejoicing; There Is Death, Or Triumph; There Has Been A Meeting, And A Change. No One Will Ever Make A Tragedy - And That Is As Well, For One Could Not Bear It - Whose Grief Is That The Principals Never Met.

What Keeps The Democracy Alive At All But The Hatred Of Excellence; The Desire Of The Base To See No Head Higher Than Their Own?