I Wonder More And More Just Where

Were It Not For Love, Poor Life Would Be A Ship Not Worth Launching.

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Do You Hear The Children Singing?

I Mean You Last As Long As Lies.

Love Must Have Wings To Fly Away From Love, And To Fly Back Again.