Any Work Looks Wonderful To Me Except

If With Love Thy Heart Has Burned; If Thy Love Is Unreturned; Hide Thy Grief Within Thy Breast, Though It Tear Thee Unexpressed; For When Love Has Once Departed From The Eyes Of The False-hearted, And One By One Has Torn Off Quite The Bandages Of Purple Light; Though Thou Wert The Loveliest Form The Soul Had Ever Dressed, Thou Shalt Seem, In Each Reply, A Vixen To His Altered Eye; Thy Softest Pleadings Seem Too Bold, Thy Praying Lute Will Seem To Scold; Though Thou Kept The Straightest Road, Yet Thou Errest Far And Broad.

The Inmost In Due Time Becomes The Outmost.

The World Is Upheld By The Veracity Of Good Men: They Make The Earth Wholesome.

...what Torments Of Pain Have You Endured That Haven't As Yet Arrived? And May Never!

The Heroic Soul Does Not Sell Its Justice And Its Nobleness.