Men Are Governed By Lines Of Intellect

My Words In Her Mind: Cold Polished Stones Sinking Through A Quagmire.

A Man's Errors Are His Portals Of Discovery.

No One Would Think He'd Make Such A Beautiful Corpse.

Every Night As I Gazed Up At The Window I Said Softly To Myself The Word Paralysis. It Had Always Sounded Strangely In My Ears, Like The Word Gnomon In The Euclid And The Word Simony In The Catechism. But Now It Sounded To Me Like The Name Of Some Maleficent And Sinful Being. It Filled Me With Fear, And Yet I Longed To Be Nearer To It And To Look Upon Its Deadly Work.

Better Pass Boldly Into That Other World, In The Full Glory Of Some Passion, Than Fade And Wither Dismally With Age.