When I Am Wicked I Am In

Sorrow Comes In Great Waves...but Rolls Over Us, And Though It May Almost Smother Us, It Leaves Us. And We Know That If It Is Strong, We Are Stronger, Inasmuch As It Passes And We Remain.

I Recall My Fleeting Instants In Savannah As The Taste Of A Cup Charged To The Brim.

She Feels In Italics And Thinks In Capitals.

The Artist Beholds In Nature More Than She Herself Nature Is Conscious Of.

In Museums And Palaces We Are Alternate Radicals And Conservatives.