Where Innocent Bright-eyes Daisies Are With Blades

Not As She Is, But As She Fills His Dream

A Man Is Ever Apt To Contemplate Himself Out Of All Proportion To His Surroundings.

A Pin Has A Head, But Has No Hair

Love Loves For Ever, And Finds A Sort Of Joy In Pain, And Gives With Nought To Take Again, And Loves Too Well To End In Vain: Is The Gain Small Then? Love Laughs At "never", Outlives Our Life, Exceeds The Span Appointed To Mere Mortal Man: All Which Love Is And Does And Can Is All In All Then.

I Have A Room Whereinto No One Enters Save I Myself Alone: There Sits A Blessed Memory On A Throne, There My Life Centres.