Chance Works For Us When We Are

We Know The Degree Of Refinement In People By The Matter They Laugh At And The Ring Of The Laugh.

Observation Is The Most Enduring Of The Pleasures Of Life.

Lovely Are The Curves Of The White Owl Sweeping Wavy In The Dusk Lit By One Large Star. Lone On The Fir-branch, His Rattle-note Unvaried, Brooding O'er The Gloom, Spins The Brown Eve-jar.

Earth Knows No Desolation. She Smells Regeneration In The Moist Breath Of Decay.

Caricature Is Rough Truth.