I'll Have Your Heart, If Not By

Youth Is An Arithmetical Statement Of Passing Interest, Each Hour Eats It Up.

Truth Is Far And Flat, And Fancy Is Fiery; And Truth Is Cold, And People Feel The Cold, And They May Wrap Themselves Against It In Fancies That Are Fiery, But They Should Not Call Them Facts; And, Generally, Poets Do Not; They Are Shrewd, They Feel The Cold, Too, But They Know A Hawk From A Handsaw, A Fact From A Fancy, As None Knows Better.

I Only Asked My Friends To Be Friendly And Polite, I Found Them Indifferent And Censorious; The One I Left To Silence, The Other To Reproach: God Send Me Over All Such Friends Victorious.

There Can Be No Good Art That Is International. Art To Be Vigorous And Gesund Must Use The Material At Hand.

See The Cat At Love, Rolling With Its Sweetheart, Up And Over, With Shriek And Moan. But If A Person Comes By, They Break Away, Sit Separate Upon A Fence Washing Their Faces - And Might Never Have Met At All.