Evil Is Limited. One Cannot Form A

My Favoured Temple Is An Humble Heart.

True Faith Nor Biddeth Nor Abideth Form, The Bended Knee, The Eye Uplift; Is All Which Men Need Render; All Which God Can Bear. What To The Faith Are Forms? A Passing Speck, A Crow Upon The Sky.

The Heart Is Its Own Fate.

For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed, So Poets Live Upon The Living Light.

I Have A Heart With Room For Every Joy .