I Have Need To Busy

But Somewhere, Beyond Space And Time, Is Wetter Water, Slimier Slime! And There (they Trust) There Swimmeth One Who Swam Ere Rivers Were Begun, Immense Of Fishy Form And Mind, Squamous Omnipotent, And Kind.

Youth Is Stranger Than Fiction.

I Have Been So Great A Lover: Filled My Days So Proudly With The Splendour Of Love's Praise, The Pain, The Calm, And The Astonishment, Desire Illimitable, And Silent Content, And All Dear Names Men Use, To Cheat Despair, For The Perplexed And Viewless Streams That Bear Our Hearts At Random Down The Dark Of Life.

Blow Out, You Bugles, Over The Rich Dead! There's None Of These So Lonely And Poor Of Old, But, Dying, Has Made Us Rarer Gifts Than Gold.

I Thought When Love For You Died, I Should Die. It's Dead. Alone, Most Strangely, I Live On.