There's No Police Like Holmes.

(...) You Cruel Creature, Little Mite Of A Thing With A Heart The Size Of A Fullstop.

All Things Are Inconstant Except The Faith In The Soul, Which Changes All Things And Fills Their Inconstancy With Light.

O Cold ! O Shivery ! It Was Your Ambrosial Beauty. Forget, Forgive. Kismet. Let Me Off This Once.

Poetry, Even When Apparently Most Fantastic, Is Always A Revolt Against Artifice, A Revolt, In A Sense, Against Actuality.

My Mouth Is Full Of Decayed Teeth And My Soul Of Decayed Ambitions.