To Offend Is My Pleasure; I Love

My Wit Is More Polished Than Your Mustache. The Truth Which I Speak Strikes More Sparks From Men's Hearts Than Your Spurs Do From The Cobblestones.

To Offend Is My Pleasure; I Love To Be Hated.

My Soul, Be Satisfied With Flowers, With Fruit, With Weeds Even; But Gather Them In The One Garden You May Call Your Own.

Stay Awhile! 'tis Sweet,. . . The Rare Occasion, When Our Hearts Can Speak Our Selves Unseen, Unseeing!

The Dream, Alone, Is Of Interest. What Is Life Without A Dream?