Drunkards Of Summer Are Quite As Frequent

Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.

Luck Is Not Chance, It's Toil; Fortune's Expensive Smile Is Earned.

I Felt A Cleaving In My Mind- As If My Brain Had Split- I Tried To Match It- Seam By Seam- But Could Not Make It Fit.

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

I Am One Of The Lingering Bad Ones, And So Do I Slink Away, And Pause, And Ponder, And Ponder, And Pause, And Do Work Without Knowing Why - Not Surely For This Brief World, And More Sure It Is Not For Heaven - And I Ask What This Message Of Christ Means.