Of what use to destroy the children of evil? It is evil itself we must destroy at the roots.

Cats sleep Anywhere, Any table, Any chair, Top of piano, Window-ledge, In the middle, On the edge.

Upon your shattered ruins where, This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

And he loved her, both for her fault and her redemption of it, more than he had ever thought that he could love her; for he had believed that in their kiss love had reached its uttermost. But love has no uttermost, as the stars have no number and the sea no rest.

Old sundial, you stand here for Time: For Love, the vine that round your base, Its tendrils twines, and dares to climb, And lay one flower-capped spray in grace, Without the asking on your cold, Unsmiling and unfrowning face.

He bent his head and kissed her long and deeply, and in that kiss neither knew themselves, or even each other, but something beyond all consciousness that was both of them.

On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some; to others they are dumb.