Worms Are The Words But Joy's The

Art Is A Mystery. A Mystery Is Something Immeasurable.

Love Being Such, Or Such, The Normal Corners Of Your Heart Will Never Guess How Much My Wonderful Jealousy Is Dark

Since Feeling Is First Who Pays Any Attention To The Syntax Of Things Will Never Wholly Kiss You; Wholly To Be A Fool While Spring Is In The World My Blood Approves, And Kisses Are A Far Better Fate Than Wisdom Lady I Swear By All Flowers. Don't Cry --the Best Gesture Of My Brain Is Less Than Your Eyelids' Flutter Which Says We Are For Eachother: Then Laugh, Leaning Back In My Arms For Life's Not A Paragraph And Death I Think Is No Parenthesis

Always The Beautiful Answer Who Asks A More Beautiful Question.

Unless You Love Someone, Nothing Else Makes Any Sense.