Dead Men Would Start And Move Toward

We Are These People, Wistful, Ironical, Wilful, Who Have No Part In New-world Reconstruction, In The Confederacy Of Labour.

You Will Not See That Desire Begets Love, Until It All Flames Into One Concise And Metallic Blaze.

No One Knows, The Heart Of A Child, How It Grows Until It Is Too Late.

I Will Be Free, No Lover's Kiss To Bind Me To Earth, No Bliss Of Love To Counteract Actual Bliss.

Fall The Deep Curtains, Delicate The Weave, Fair The Thread.