A Large Nose Is In

Your Neck. I Want To Kiss It.

My Heart Always Timidly Hides Itself Behind My Mind. I Set Out To Bring Down Stars From The Sky, Then, For Fear Of Ridicule, I Stop And Pick Little Flowers Of Eloquence.

A Kiss, When All Is Said, What Is It? An Oath That's Given Closer Than Before; A Promise More Precise; The Sealing Of Confessions That Till Then Were Barely Breathed; A Rosy Dot Placed On The I In Loving.

I Have A Different Idea Of Elegance. I Don't Dress Like A Fop, It's True, But My Moral Grooming Is Impeccable. I Never Appear In Public With A Soiled Conscience, A Tarnished Honor, Threadbare Scruples, Or An Insult That I Haven't Washed Away. I'm Always Immaculately Clean, Adorned With Independence And Frankness. I May Not Cut A Stylish Figure, But I Hold My Soul Erect. I Wear My Deeds As Ribbons, My Wit Is Sharper Then The Finest Mustache, And When I Walk Among Men I Make Truths Ring Like Spurs.

She Is A Mortal Danger Without Meaning To Be One; She's Exquisite Without Giving Ita Thought; Shes A Trap Set By Nature, A Rose In Which Love Lies In Ambush! Anyone Who Has Seen Her Smile Has Known Perfection. She Creates Grace Without Movement And Makes All Divinity Fit Into Her Slightest Gesture. And Neither Venus In Her Shell, Nor Diana Striding In The Great, Blossoming Forest, Can Compare To Her When She Goes Through The Streets Of Paris In Her Sedan Chair.