That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.

Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.

Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts; They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.

Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.

I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

The world stands out on either side, No wider than the heart is wide.

My candle burns at both ends