The Things Of Which We Want The

Proud Of My Broken Heart Since Thou Didst Break It, Proud Of The Pain I Did Not Feel Till Thee, Proud Of My Night Since Thou With Moons Dost Slake It, Not To Partake Thy Passion, My Humility.

Common Sense Is Almost As Omniscient As God.

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Hills That Silence Cannot Overtake, But Human Nature Feels.

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Or Else It Does Not Care