As Our Eyes Grow Accustomed To Sight

When You've Fallen On The Highway / And You're Lying In The Rain, / And They Ask You How You're Doing / Of Course You'll Say You Can't Complain.

Ah, Grief Makes Us Precise!

I Have To Finish It In Order To Know Whether It Deserves To Survive.

This Mental Space Is Occupied And Everything Is Mine.

From Bitter Searching Of The Heart, Quickened With Passion And With Pain We Rise To Play A Greater Part This Is The Faith From Which We Start.