We Meet No Stranger, But Ourself.

Wonder Is Not Precisely Knowing.

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

You Left Me Boundaries Of Pain Capacious As The Sea, Between Eternity And Time, Your Consciousness And Me.

The Morning After Woe- Tis Frequently The Way- Surpasses All That Rose Before- For Utter Jubilee-.

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word