Justice Itself Tends To Be Corrupted By

The Single Rose Is Now The Garden Where All Loves End

Who Is The Third Who Walks Always Beside You? When I Count, There Are Only You And I Together But When I Look Ahead Up The White Road There Is Always Another One Walking Beside You Gliding Wrapt In A Brown Mantle, Hooded I Do Not Know Whether A Man Or A Woman -but Who Is That On The Other Side Of You?

Genuine Poetry Can Communicate Before It Is Understood.

If One Has To Earn A Living, Therefore, The Safest Occupation Is That Most Remote From The Arts.

The Purpose Of Literature Is To Turn Blood Into Ink.