Time, Which Despoils Castles, Enriches Verses.

You May Win Your Heart's Desire, But In The End You're Cheated Of It By Death.

This Felicitous Supposition Declared That There Is Only One Individual, And That This Indivisible Individual Is Every One Of The Separate Beings In The Universe, And That These Beings Are The Instruments And Masks Of Divinity Itself.

Happy Are The Beloved And The Lovers And Those Who Can Live Without Love.

The Certainty That Everything Has Already Been Written Annuls Us, Or Renders Us Phantasmal.

I Write For Myself, And Perhaps For Half A Dozen Friends. And That Should Be Enough. And That Might Improve The Quality Of My Writing. But If I Were Writing For Thousands Of People, Then I Would Write What Might Please Them. And As I Know Nothing About Them, And Maybe I'd Have A Rather Low Opinion Of Them, I Don't Think That Would Do Any Good To My Work.