The Dearest Ones Of Time, The Strongest

I Can Wade Grief -- Whole Pools Of It -- I'm Used To That -- But The Least Push Of Joy Breaks Up My Feet -- And I Tip -- Drunken -- Let No Pebble -- Smile -- 'twas The New Liquor -- That Was All!

Love Can Do All But Raise The Dead.

The Career Of Flowers Differs From Ours Only Inaudibleness.

Why Should We Censure Othello When The Criterion Lover Says, "thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me"?

Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.