Memento Mori And Obey The

But These Are Flowers That Fly And All But Sing: And Now From Having Ridden Out Desire They Lie Closed Over In The Wind And Cling Where Wheels Have Freshly Sliced The April Mire.

Have I Not Walked Without An Upward Look Of Caution Under Stars That Very Well Might Not Have Missed Me When They Shot And Fell? It Was A Risk I Had To Take-and Took.

How Are We To Write The Russian Novel In America As Long As Life Goes So Unterribly?

I See For Nature No Defeat In One Tree's Overthrow Or For Myself In My Retreat For Yet Another Blow.

There Is One Thing More Exasperating Than A Wife Who Can Cook And Won't, And That's A Wife Who Can't Cook And Will.