All Lovely Things Will Have

We Were All Born Of Flesh, In A Flare Of Pain. We Do Not Remember The Red Roots Whence We Rose, But We Know That We Rose And Walked, That After A While We Shall Lie Down Again.

The Truth--a Hideous Spectacle!

All Lovely Things Will Have An Ending, All Lovely Things Will Fade And Die; And Youth, That's Now So Bravely Spending, Will Beg A Penny By And By.

One Is Least Sure Of One's Self, Sometimes, When One Is Most Positive.

All That Is Beautiful, And All That Looks On Beauty With Eyes Filled With Fire, Like A Lover's Eyes: All Of This Is Yours; You Gave It To Me, Sunlight! All These Stars Are Yours; You Gave Them To Me, Skies!