Art Is A Man's Nature; Nature Is

I Am Tired Of Looking On What Is, One Might As Well See Beauty Never More, As Look Upon It With An Empty Eye. I Would This World Were Over. I Am Tired.

Ah, Nothing Comes To Us Too Soon But Sorrow.

Ask Not Of Me, Love, What Is Love? Ask What Is Good Of God Above; Ask Of The Great Sun What Is Light; Ask What Is Darkness Of The Night; Ask Sin Of What May Be Forgiven; Ask What Is Happiness Of Heaven; Ask What Is Folly Of The Crowd; Ask What Is Fashion Of The Shroud; Ask What Is Sweetness Of Thy Kiss; Ask Of Thyself What Beauty Is.

As The Master So The Valet.

For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed, So Poets Live Upon The Living Light.