To Be An Error And To Be

I Cry, Love! Love! Love! Happy Happy Love! Free As The Mountain Wind!

What Has Reasoning To Do With Painting?

Joys Impregnate. Sorrows Bring Forth.

Little Fly, Thy Summer's Play My Thoughtless Hand Has Brushed Away. Am Not I A Fly Like Thee? Or Art Not Thou A Man Like Me? For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing!

O Winter! Bar Thine Adamantine Doors: The North Is Thine; There Hast Thou Build Thy Dark, Deep-founded Habitation. Shake Not Thy Roofs, Nor Bend Thy Pillars With Thine Iron Car.