Love Is Cruel As The Grave.

Who Has Passed By The Fates Of Disillusion Has Died Twice.

Brussels Is A Gay Little City That Lies As Bright Within Its Girdle Of Woodland As Any Butterfly That Rests Upon Moss.

The Joy Of A Strong Nature Is As Cloudless As Its Suffering Is Desolate.

For What Is The Gift Of The Poet And The Artist Except To See The Sights Which Others Cannot See And To Hear The Sounds That Others Cannot Hear?

Excess Always Carries It's Own Retributions.