The Journey Is The Thing.

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

Why Cover The Same Ground Again? ... It Goes Against My Grain To Repeat A Tale Told Once, And Told So Clearly.

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

And They Die An Equal Death — The Idler And The Man Of Mighty Deeds.

She Spoke And Loosened From Her Bosom The Embroidered Girdle Of Many Colors Into Which All Her Allurements Were Fashioned. In It Was Love And Int Desire Which Steals The Mind Even Of The Wise.