Literary Men Are . . . A

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

Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.

Darkling I Listen; And, For Many A Time I Have Been Half In Love With Easeful Death, Called Him Soft Names In Many A Muse' D Rhyme, To Take Into The Air My Quiet Breath; Now More Than Ever Seems It Rich To Die, To Cease Upon The Midnight With No Pain, While Thou Art Pouring Forth Thy Soul Abroad In Such An Ecstasy!

I Would Sooner Fail Than Not Be Among The Greatest.

The Thought, The Deadly Thought Of Solitude.