If Troubles Were Put Up

I Carry My Unwritten Poems In Cipher On My Face!

To The Old, Sorrow Is Sorrow; To The Young, It Is Despair.

Anger And Jealousy Can No More Bear To Lose Sight Of Their Objects Than Love.

Kisses Honeyed By Oblivion.

Men And Women Make Sad Mistakes About Their Own Symptoms, Taking Their Vague Uneasy Longings, Sometimes For Genius, Sometimes For Religion, And Oftener Still For A Mighty Love.