I Am Clever Enough To Know That

And There Shall Be A Flame-green Daybreak Soon. And Love Itself Will Cry For Insurrection! For Tomorrow Is Also A Day - And Titus Has Entered His Stronghold.

Noon, Ripe As Thunder And Silent As Thought, Had Fled Unfingered.

Something To Remember, That: Cats For Missiles.

Life Is Too Fleet For Onomatopoeia.

I Was Brooding, Boy. Than Which There Is No Richer Pastime. It Muffles One With Rotting Plumes. It Gives Forth Sullen Music. It Is The Smell Of Home.