To Live Is So Startling It Leaves

This Is My Letter To The World That Never Wrote To Me

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.

Beauty Is Not Caused, It Is; Chase It And It Ceases, Chase It Not And It Abides.

If Fame Belonged To Me, I Could Not Escape Her; If She Did Not, The Longest Day Would Pass Me On The Chase, And The Approbation Of My Dog Would Forsake Me.

I Don't Profess To Be Profound; But I Do Lay Claim To Common Sense.