Poetry Should Only Occupy The Idle.

Talent May Be In Time Forgiven, But Genius Never

I Deny Nothing, But Doubt Everything.

Hatred Is The Madness Of The Heart.

Time Strips Our Illusions Of Their Hue, And One By One In Turn, Some Grand Mistake Casts Off Its Bright Skin Yearly Like The Snake.

I Die But First I Have Possessed, And Come What May, I Have Been Blessed.