Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.
Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb
My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -
The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.
I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
in this short life that only lasts ah hour how much-how little-is within our power.