Here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ

I Do Think Better Of Womankind Than To Suppose They Care Whether Mister John Keats Five Feet High Likes Them Or Not.

For Axioms In Philosophy Are Not Axioms Until They Are Proved Upon Our Pulses.

Heard Melodies Are Sweet, But Those Unheard Are Sweeter; Therefore, Ye Soft Pipes, Play On; Not To The Sensual Ear, But, More Endear'd, Pipe To The Spirit Ditties Of No Tone.

My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe Without You.

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.