With The Rose The Butterfly's Deep In

Don't Send A Poet To London.

Where Books Are Burnt, Men Finish Up Being Burnt Too.

In Blissful Dream, In Silent Night, There Came To Me, With Magic Might, With Magic Might, My Own Sweet Love, Into My Little Room Above.

Wherever They Burn Books They Will Also, In The End, Burn Human Beings.

He That Marries Is Like The Dogs Who Was Married To The Adriatic. He Knows Not What There Is In That Which He Marries; Mayhap Treasures And Pearls, Mayhap Monsters And Tempests, Await Him.