And to my lips' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn.

A snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.

Never trust the teller, trust the tale.

Water is H2O, hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing, that makes it water and nobody knows what that is.

Can you understand how cruelly I feel the lack of friends who will believe in me a bit?

The East is marvellously interesting for tracing our steps back. But for going forward, it is nothing. All it can hope for is to be fertilised by Europe, so that it can start on a new phase.

Every civilization when it loses its inner vision and its cleaner energy, falls into a new sort of sordidness, more vast and more stupendous than the old savage sort. An Augean stable of metallic filth.