The beautiful uncut hair of graves.
This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!
I dance with the dancers.
All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them