What Was The Freedom To Which The

What Was The Freedom To Which The Adult Human Being Rose In The Morning, If Each Act Was Held Back Or Inspired By The Overpowering Ghost Of A Little Child?

How Could I Think The Brief Years Were Enough To Prove The Reality Of Endless Love?

All Literature Is An Effort At The Formal Character Of The Epigram.

Each Minute Bursts In The Burning Room,the Great Globe Reels In The Solar Fire,spinning The Trivial And Unique Away.(how All Things Flash! How All Things Flare!)what Am I Now That I Was Then?may Memory Restore Again And Againthe Smallest Color Of The Smallest Day:time Is The School In Which We Learn,time Is The Fire In Which We Burn.

Literary Party: A Traffic Jam Of The Lost Waiting For The Ferry Across The Styx.