There Is Music In All Things, If

There Is No Passion, More Spectral Or Fantastical Than Hate, Not Even Its Opposite, Love, So Peoples Air, With Phantoms, As This Madness Of The Heart.

In Commitment, We Dash The Hopes Of A Thousand Potential Selves.

My Turn Of Mind Is So Given To Taking Things In The Absurd Point Of View, That It Breaks Out In Spite Of Me Every Now And Then.

Opinions Are Made To Be Changed Or How Is Truth To Be Got At?

Few Things Surpass Old Wine; And They May Preach Who Please, The More Because They Preach In Vain