The Measured Blood Beats Out The Year's

The Terrible Beast, That No One May Understand, Came To My Side, And Put Down His Head In Love.

But Childhood Prolonged, Cannot Remain A Fairyland. It Becomes A Hell.

... How Much Of Our Inner Substance Is It Good For Us To Give To Public Griefs? The Whole Modern Tendency To Agonize Over The Suffering Of The Entire Globe Is Surely Something New.

Song, Like A Wing, Tears Through My Breast, My Side, And Madness Chooses Out My Voice Again, Again.

Your Work Is Carved Out Of Agony As A Statue Is Carved Out Of Marble.