Curiosity Kills Itself; And Love Is Only

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse -- Borne Away With Every Breath!

There Is No Passion, More Spectral Or Fantastical Than Hate, Not Even Its Opposite, Love, So Peoples Air, With Phantoms, As This Madness Of The Heart.

'tis Sweet To Know There Is An Eye Will Mark Our Coming, And Look Brighter When We Come.

When We Two Parted In Silence And Tears, Half Broken-hearted, To Sever For Years.

My Altars Are The Mountains And The Ocean.