h d bogart quotes

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a painful privacy
learning to live without words.
The light passes
from ridge to ridge,
from flower to flower--
shadow seeks shadow,
then both leaf
and leaf-shadow are lost.
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
Greece sees, unmoved,
God's daughter, born of love,
the beauty of cool feet
and slenderest knees,
Nor skin nor hide nor fleece
shall cover you,
The mysteries remain,
I keep the same
cycle of seed-time
and of sun and rain;
he had crowded the city so full
that men could not grasp beauty,
How might one describe Max Beerbohm to someone who knows nothing about him? Well, for a start, one might imagine D.H. Lawrence. Pi ...
Like D.H. Lawrence, Joyce seems to have been fascinated by what he hated and repelled by what he loved.
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