The Artist In Me Cries Out For

Not To Sink Under Being Man And Wife, But Get Some Color And Music Out Of Life?

We Disparage Reason. But All The Time It's What We're Most Concerned With. There's Will As Motor And There's Will As Brakes. Reason Is, I Suppose, The Steering Gear.

But These Are Flowers That Fly And All But Sing: And Now From Having Ridden Out Desire They Lie Closed Over In The Wind And Cling Where Wheels Have Freshly Sliced The April Mire.

Education Doesn't Change Life Much. It Just Lifts Trouble To A Higher Plane Of Regard.

An Idea Is A Feat Of Association, And The Height Of It Is A Good Metaphor.