Curiosity Kills Itself; And Love Is Only

My Slumbers--if I Slumber--are Not Sleep, But A Continuance Of Enduring Thought, Which Then I Can Resist Not: In My Heart There Is A Vigil, And These Eyes But Close To Look Within; And Yet I Live, And Bear The Aspect And The Form Of Breathing Men.

For The Night Shows Stars And Women In A Better Light.

One Hates An Author That's All Author.

Cervantes Smiled Spain's Chivalry Away.

I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.