I Observe The Physician With The Same

I Shall Die Reading; Since My Book And A Grave Are So Near.

Old Grandsires Talk Of Yesterday With Sorrow, And For Our Children We Reserve Tomorrow.

That Which Attempts To Elevate The Ugly To The Level Of Beauty Becomes Neither; But An Obscenity.

Send Home My Long Strayed Eyes To Me, Which (oh) Too Long Have Dwelt On Thee.

Let Man's Soul Be A Sphere, And Then, In This, The Intelligence That Moves, Devotion Is.