People Trample Over Flowers, Yet Only To

There Is Not Past, No Future; Everything Flows In An Eternal Present.

Too Excited To Be Genuinely Happy

Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty And, When His Arms Wrap Her Round, He Presses In His Arms The Loveliness Which Has Long Faded From The World. Not This. Not At All. I Desire To Press In My Arms The Loveliness Which Has Not Yet Come Into The World.

A Corpse Is Meat Gone Bad. Well And What's Cheese? Corpse Of Milk.

I Confess That I Do Not See What Good It Does To Fulminate Against The English Tyranny While The Roman Tyranny Occupies The Palace Of The Soul.