Memoirs Are The Backstairs Of History.

And If I Drink Oblivion Of A Day, / So Shorten I The Stature Of My Soul.

Days, When The Ball Of Our Vision Had Eagles That Flew Unabashed To Sun; When The Graps On The Bow Was Decision, And Arrow And Hand And Eye Were One; When The Pleasures, Like Waves To A Swimmer, Came Heaving For Rapture Ahead! - Invoke Them, They Dwindle, They Glimmer As Lights Over Mounds Of The Dead.

A Woman Who Is Not Quite A Fool Will Forgive Your Being But A Man, If You Are Surely That. . .

Swift Doth Young Love Flee, And We Stand Wakened, Shivering From Our Dream.

Faith Works Miracles. At Least It Allows Time For Them.