Beauty's Witching Sway Is Now To Me

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.

The Smaller Your Reality, The More Convinced You Are That You Know Everything.

The Soul Of Conversation Is Sympathy

What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss Have Been, Like Angel Visits, Few And Far Between.

Our Purpose Is To Grow Up And Become Love