A Gentleman With A Pug Nose Is

As A Poet And As A Mathematician, He Would Reason Well; As A Mere Mathematician, He Could Not Have Reasoned At All.

The Eye, Like A Shattered Mirror, Multiplies The Images Of Sorrow

Thy Soul Shall Find Itself Alone ’mid Dark Thoughts Of The Gray Tombstone— Not One, Of All The Crowd, To Pry Into Thine Hour Of Secrecy. Be Silent In That Solitude, Which Is Not Loneliness—for Then The Spirits Of The Dead Who Stood In Life Before Thee Are Again In Death Around Thee—and Their Will Shall Overshadow Thee: Be Still. [...]

You Call It Hope-that Fire Of Fire! It Is But Agony Of Desire.

If You Run Out Of Ideas Follow The Road; You'll Get There