Woman's Reason Is In The Milk Of

Always Imitate The Behaviour Of The Winners When You Lose.

Could I Find A Place To Be Alone With Heaven, I Would Speak My Heart Out Heaven Is My Need.

Lovely Are The Curves Of The White Owl Sweeping Wavy In The Dusk Lit By One Large Star. Lone On The Fir-branch, His Rattle-note Unvaried, Brooding O'er The Gloom, Spins The Brown Eve-jar.

Cynicism Is Intellectual Dandyism.

Poetry Is Talking On Tiptoe.