The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible

What Is Last Year's Snow To Me, Last Year's Anything? The Tree Budding Yearly Must Forget How Its Past Arose Or Set

The Truth Is... Everything Counts. Everything. Everything We Do And Everything We Say. Everything Helps Or Hurts; Everything Adds To Or Takes Away From Someone Else.

Dame Poverty Gave Me My Name, And Pain Godfathered Me.

The Night Whose Sable Breast Relieves The Stark, White Stars, Is No Less Lovely Being Dark

For We Must Be One Thing Or The Other, An Asset Or A Liability, The Sinew In Your Wing To Help You Soar, Or The Chain To Bind You To Earth.