Remorse Is Memory Awake.

I Had No Time To Hate, Because The Grave Would Hinder Me, And Life Was Not So Ample I Could Finish Enmity Nor Had I Time To Love: But Since Some Industry Must Be, The Little Toil Of Love, I Thought, Was Large Enough For Me.

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

Dogs Are Better Than Human Beings Because They Know But Do Not Tell.

Which Anguish Was The Utterest--then-- To Perish, Or To Live?

For Love Is Immortality.