But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse -- borne away with every breath!

I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.

Whatsoever thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.

The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August