All Our Souls Are Written In Our

All My Laurels You Have Riven Away, And My Roses; Yet In Spite Of You, There Is One Crown I Bear Away With Me... One Thing Without Stain, Unspotted From The World, In Spite Of Doom Mine Own! And That Is... My White Plume.

It Is At Night That Faith In Light Is Admirable.

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

She Is A Mortal Danger Without Meaning To Be One; She's Exquisite Without Giving Ita Thought; Shes A Trap Set By Nature, A Rose In Which Love Lies In Ambush! Anyone Who Has Seen Her Smile Has Known Perfection. She Creates Grace Without Movement And Makes All Divinity Fit Into Her Slightest Gesture. And Neither Venus In Her Shell, Nor Diana Striding In The Great, Blossoming Forest, Can Compare To Her When She Goes Through The Streets Of Paris In Her Sedan Chair.

A Kiss, When All Is Told, What Is It? An Oath Taken A Little Closer, A Promise More Exact. A Wish That Longs To Be Confirmed, A Rosy Circle Drawn Around The Verb 'to Love'. A Kiss Is A Secret Which Takes The Lips For The Ear, A Moment Of Infinity Humming Like A Bee, A Communion Tasting Of Flowers, A Way Of Breathing In A Little Of The Heart And Tasting A Little Of The Soul With The Edge Of The Lips!