And The Headbonny Ash That Sits Over

I Do Not Think I Have Ever Seen Anything More Beautiful Than The Bluebell I Have Been Looking At. I Know The Beauty Of Our Lord By It.

Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend With Thee; But, Sir, So What I Plead Is Just. Why Do Sinners' Ways Prosper? And Why Must Disappointment All I Endeavour End?

For Human Nature, Being More Highly Pitched, Selved, And Distinctive Than Anything In The World, Can Have Been Developed, Evolved,condensed, From The Vastness Of The World Not Anyhow Or By The Working Of Common Powers But Only By One Of Finer Or Higher Pitch And Determination Than Itself.

I Think That The Trivialness Of Life Is, And Personally To Each One, Ought To Be Seen To Be, Done Away With By The Incarnation.

Every True Poet, I Thought, Must Be Original And Originality A Condition Of Poetic Genius; So That Each Poet Is Like A Species In Nature (not An Individuum Genericum Or Specificum ) And Can Never Recur. That Nothing Shd. Be Old Or Borrowed However Cannot Be.