It Is Not Peace We Seek But

How Grudging Memory Is, And How Bitterly She Clutches The Raw Material Of Her Daily Work.

They Flower Spontaneously Out Of The Demands Of Our Natures - And The Best Of Them Lead Us Not Only Outward In Space, But Inward As Well.

Of Women, The Most We Can Say, Not Being Frenchmen, Is That They Are Burrowing Animals.

Who Invented The Human Heart, I Wonder? Tell Me, And Then Show Me The Place Where He Was Hanged.

Music Is Only Love Looking For Words.