What Lies Lurk In Kisses.

There Is One Thing On Earth More Terrible Than English Music, And That Is English Painting.

The Arrow Belongs Not To The Archer When It Has Once Left The Bow; The Word No Longer Belongs To The Speaker When It Has Once Passed His Lips, Especially When It Has Been Multiplied By The Press.

In The Marvelous Month Of May When All The Buds Were Bursting, Then In My Heart Did Love Arise. In The Marvelous Month Of May When All The Birds Were Singing, Then Did I Reveal To Her My Yearning And Longing.

Graves They Say Are Warm'd By Glory; Foolish Words And Empty Story.

Nature, Like A True Poet, Abhors Abrupt Transitions.