Beauty Is Just A Light Switch Away...'click!'

Forever Is Made Up Of Nows.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

Answer July- Where Is The Bee- Where Is The Blush- Where Is The Hay? Ah, Said July- Where Is The Seed- Where Is The Bud- Where Is The May- Answer Thee-me-

We Both Believe, And Disbelieve A Hundred Times An Hour, Which Keeps Believing Nimble.

The Only Secret People Keep Is Immortality.