I Can Draw And Write, And You'd

Love Becomes The Deposit Of The Heart, Analogous In All Degrees To The 'findings' In A Tomb. As In One Will Be Charted The Taken Place Of The Body, The Raiment, The Utensils Necessary To Its Other Life, So In The Heart Of The Lover Will Be Traced, As An Indelible Shadow, That Which He Loves.

I Can Draw And Write, And You'd Be Foolish Not To Hire Me.

Suffering For Love Is How I Have Learned Practically Everything I Know, Love Of Grandmother Up And On.

To Think Is To Be Sick.

Why Is It That Whenever I Hear Music I Think I’m A Bride?