Why Does My Muse Only Speak When

Life May Be Treacherous, But You Can Always Depend On Death.

Nothing Is More Wistful Than The Scent Of Lilac, Nor More Robust Than Its Woody Stalk, For We Must Remember That It Is A Tree As Well As A Flower, We Must Try Not To Forget This.

If I Lie Down On My Bed I Must Be Here, But If I Lie Down In My Grave I May Be Elsewhere.

The Flower And Fruit Of Love Are Mine The Ant, The Fieldmouse And The Mole

I Like To See Cats In Movement. A Galloping Cat Is A Fine Sight. See It Cross The Road In A Streak, Cursed By The Drivers Of Motor Cars And Buses, Dodging The Butcher's Bicycle, Coming Safe To The Kerb And Bellying Under Its Home Gate.