The Flower You Single Out Is A

I Saw The Sunset Forty-four Times!

It Is Not For Us To Forecast The Future, But To Shape It.

Where I Live, Everything Is Very Small.

What Was My Body To Me? A Kind Of Flunkey In My Service. Let But My Anger Wax Hot, My Love Grow Exalted, My Hatred Collect In Me, And That Boasted Solidarity Between Me And My Body Was Gone.

He Fell As Gently As A Tree Falls. There Was Not Even Any Sound.