Thus People--so It Seems To

Moral Maxims Are Surprisingly Useful On Occasions When We Can Invent Little Else To Justify Our Actions.

If You But Knew The Flames That Burn In Me Which I Attempt To Beat Down With My Reason.

Unrequited Love Is Not An Affront To Man But Raises Him.

I Have Outlasted All Desire, My Dreams And I Have Grown Apart; My Grief Alone Is Left Entire, The Gleamings Of An Empty Heart. The Storms Of Ruthless Dispensation Have Struck My Flowery Garland Numb, I Live In Lonely Desolation And Wonder When My End Will Come. Thus On A Naked Tree-limb, Blasted By Tardy Winter's Whistling Chill, A Single Leaf Which Has Outlasted Its Season Will Be Trembling Still.

With Womankind, The Less We Love Them, The Easier They Become To Charm.