And Gentle Winds And Waters Near, Make

If I Don't Write To Empty My Mind, I Go Mad.

Mont Blanc Is The Monarch Of Mountains; They Crown'd Him Long Ago On A Throne Of Rocks, In A Robe Of Clouds, With A Diadem Of Snow.

What Men Call Gallantry, And Gods Adultery, Is Much More Common Where The Climate's Sultry.

That Music In Itself, Whose Sounds Are Song, The Poetry Of Speech.

In Commitment, We Dash The Hopes Of A Thousand Potential Selves.