It Kills Me To Be Time's Eunuch

I Awoke In The Midsummer Not-to-call Night, In The White And The Walk Of The Morning

It Kills Me To Be Time's Eunuch And Never To Beget.

I Think That The Trivialness Of Life Is, And Personally To Each One, Ought To Be Seen To Be, Done Away With By The Incarnation.

Horrible To Say, In A Manner I Am A Communist.

The Poetical Language Of An Age Should Be The Current Language Heightened.