I Saw The Tracks Of Angels In

And I Live On, But In Grief And Self-contempt, Left Here Without The Light I Loved So Much, In A Great Tempest And With Shrouds Unkempt.

I Freeze And Burn, Love Is Bitter And Sweet, My Sighs Are Tempests And My Tears Are Floods, I Am In Ecstasy And Agony, I Am Possessed By Memories Of Her And I Am In Exile From Myself.

I Have Taken Pride In Others, Never In Myself.

Great Errors Seldom Originate But With Men Of Great Minds.

Events Appear Sad, Pleasant, Or Painful, Not Because They Are So In Reality, But Because We Believe Them To Be So And The Light In Which We Look At Them Depends Upon Our Own Judgment.