Flowers Really Do Intoxicate Me.

Not Seeing Is Half-believing.

Forget Not Bees In Winter, Though They Sleep.

Everywhere Bees Go Racing With The Hours, / For Every Bee Becomes A Drunken Lover, / Standing Upon His Head To Sup The Flowers.

I Cannot Bear That You / Should Think Me Faithful, When I Am Untrue.

Travel Is A Private Pleasure, Since It Consists Entirely Of Things Felt And Things Seen.