Courage Is The Fairest Adornment Of Youth.

We Are Little Flames Poorly Sheltered By Frail Walls Against The Storm Of Dissolution And Madness, In Which We Flicker And Sometimes Almost Go Out…we Creep In Upon Ourselves And With Big Eyes Stare Into The Night…and Thus We Wait For Morning.

You May Turn Into An Archangel, A Fool, Or A Criminal—no One Will See It. But When A Button Is Missing—everyone Sees That.

I Wandered Through The Streets Thinking Of All The Things I Might Have Said And Might Have Done Had I Been Other Than I Was.

... Clothes Sometimes Gave One More Of A Lift Than Any Philosophic Comforting.

The Storm Lashes Us, Out Of The Confusion Of Grey And Yellow The Hail Of Splinters Whips Forth The Childlike Cries Of The Wounded, And In The Night Shattered Life Groans Painfully Into Silence. Our Hands Are Earth, Our Bodies Clay And Our Eyes Pools Of Rain. We Do Not Know Whether We Are Still Alive.