Hope Died As I Was Led Unto

I Have Read A Fiery Gospel Writ In Burnished Rows Of Steel: "as Ye Deal With My Contemners, So With You My Grace Shall Deal; Let The Hero, Born Of Woman, Crush The Serpent With His Heel, Since God Is Marching On.

When I Behold The Passion For Ornamentation, And The Corresponding Power, I Feel As If Women Had So Far Shown What They Are Bad For, Rather Than What They Are Good For.

It Is Always Legitimate To Wish To Rise Above One's Self, Never Above Others.

Marriage, Like Death, Is A Debt We Owe To Nature.

In The Nature Of Things, I Must Soon Lose Sight Of This Sense Of Constant Metamorphosis Whose Limits Bound Our Human Life.