Caricature Is Rough Truth.

But O The Truth, The Truth. The Many Eyes That Look On It The Diverse Things They See.

And If I Drink Oblivion Of A Day, / So Shorten I The Stature Of My Soul.

Sunrays, Leaning On Our Southern Hills And Lighting Wild Cloud-mountains That Drag The Hills Along, Oft Ends The Day Of Your Shifting Brilliant Laughter Chill As A Dull Face Frowning On A Song. Ay, But Shows The South-west A Ripple-feathered Bosom Blown To Silver While The Clouds Are Shaken And Ascend Scaling The Mid-heavens As They Stream, There Comes A Sunset Rich, Deep Like Love In Beauty Without End.

The Debts We Owe Ourselves Are The Hardest To Pay.

Speech Is The Small Change Of Silence.