None But God Can Fill The Perfect

Nature Means Necessity.

Death Is The Universal Salt Of States; Blood Is The Base Of All Things--law And War.

Poetry Is Itself A Thing Of God; He Made His Prophets Poets; And The More We Feel Of Poesie Do We Become Like God In Love And Power,-under-makers.

I Cannot Love As I Have Loved, And Yet I Know Not Why; It Is The One Great Woe Of Life To Feel All Feeling Die.

Mind And Night Will Meet, Though In Silence, Like Forbidden Lovers.