A Single Thought Is That Which It

Falsehood Is Fire In Stubble; It Likewise Turns All The Light Stuff Around It Into Its Own Substance For A Moment, One Crackling Blazing Moment, And Then Dies; And All Its Converts Are Scattered In The Wind, Without Place Or Evidence Of Their Existence, As Viewless As The Wind Which Scatters Them.

Within Today, Tomorrow Is Already Walking.

He Prayeth Best, Who Loveth Best All Things Both Great And Small; For The Dear God Who Loveth Us, He Made And Loveth All.

Her Skin Was White As Leprosy.

You Do Not Believe, You Only Believe That You Believe.