Wars In Old Times Were Made To

The Eyes Of This Dead Lady Speak To Me For Here Was Love, Was Not To Be Drowned Out. And Here Desire, Not To Be Kissed Away. The Eyes Of This Dead Lady Speak To Me.

Poetry Is A Sort Of Inspired Mathematics, Which Gives Us Equations, Not For Abstract Figures, Triangles, Squares, And The Like, But For The Human Emotions. If One Has A Mind Which Inclines To Magic Rather Than Science, One Will Prefer To Speak Of These Equations As Spells Or Incantations; It Sounds More Arcane, Mysterious, Recondite.

Glance Is The Enemy Of Vision.

Adolf Hitler Was A Jeanne D'arc, A Saint. He Was A Martyr. Like Many Martyrs, He Held Extreme Views.

With Usura With Usura Hath No Man A House Of Good Stone Each Block Cut Smooth And Well Fitting.