I Wonder What Adam And Eve Think

There Is A Great Amount Of Poetry In Unconscious Fastidiousness.

The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing.

A Man Is A Writer If All His Words Are Strung In Definite Sentence Sounds.

The Hands Are The Heart's Messengers.

The Sweet Air Coming Into Your House On A Fine Day, From Water Etched With Waves As Formal As The Scales On A Fish.