I Only Hope That When

I Never Take My Own Side In A Quarrel.

If You're Looking For Something To Be Brave About, Consider Fine Arts.

You, Of Course, Are A Rose-- But Were Always A Rose.

The Tree The Tempest With A Crash Of Wood Throws Down In Front Of Us Is Not To Bar Our Passage To Our Journey's End For Good, But Just To Ask Us Who We Think We Are.

Why Make So Much Of Fragmentary Blue In Here And There A Bird, Or Butterfly, Or Flower, Or Wearing-stone, Or Open Eye, When Heaven Presents In Sheets The Solid Hue?