Thou Art A Woman, And That Is

Nature Means Necessity.

Death Is The Universal Salt Of States; Blood Is The Base Of All Things--law And War.

Burn To Be Great, Pay Not Thy Praise To Lofty Things Alone. The Plains Are Everlasting As The Hills, The Bard Cannot Have Two Pursuits; Aught Else Comes On The Mind With The Like Shock As Though Two Worlds Had Gone To War, And Met In Air.

A Poet Not In Love Is Out At Sea; He Must Have A Lay-figure.

Not A Single Path Of Thought I Tread, But That It Leads To God.