Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My

Every Why Has A Wherefore.

Love Is The Greatest Of Dreams, Yet The Worst Of Nightmares.

What, Can The Devil Speak True?

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

So Holy Writ In Babes Hath Judgment Shown When Judges Have Been Babes; Great Floods Have Flown From Simple Sources, And Great Seas Have Dried When Miracles Have By The Greatest Been Denied.