As Small As A World As Large

Unlove's The Heavenless Hell And The Homeless Home.

You Said Is There Anything Which Is Dead Or Alive More Beautiful Than My Body,to Have In Your Fingers (trembling Ever So Little)? Looking Into Your Eyes Nothing,i Said,except The Air Of Spring Smelling Of Never And Forever. ....and Through The Lattice Which Moved As If A Hand Is Touched By A Hand(which Moved As Though Fingers Touch A Girl's Breast, Lightly) Do You Believe In Always,the Wind Said To The Rain I Am Too Busy With My Flowers To Believe,the Rain Answered

Time Is A Tree (this Life One Leaf) But Love Is The Sky And I Am For You Just So Long And Long Enough

It's No Use Trying To Pretend That Mostpeople And Ourselves Are Alike. Mostpeople Have Less In Common With Ourselves Than Thesquarerootofminusone. You And I Are Human Beings; Mostpeople Are Snobs.

There Are Certain Things In Which One Is Unable To Believe For The Simple Reason That He Never Ceases To Feel Them. Things Of This Sort - Things Which Are Always Inside Of Us And In Fact Are Us And Which Consequently Will Not Be Pushed Off Or Away Where We Can Begin Thinking About Them - Are No Longer Things; They, And The Us Which They Are, Equals A Verb; An Is.