I Believe While I Tremble; I Trust

A Beauty Neither Of Fine Colour Nor Long Eyelash, Nor Pencilled Brow, But Of Meaning, Of Movement, Of Radiance.

I Am Not Talking To You Now Through The Medium Of Custom, Conventionalities, Nor Even Of Mortal Flesh: It Is My Spirit That Addresses Your Spirit; Just As If Both Had Passed Through The Grave, And We Stood At God's Feet, Equal--as We Are!

Sometimes I Have The Strangest Feeling About You. Especially When You Are Near Me As You Are Now. It Feels As Though I Had A String Tied Here Under My Left Rib Where My Heart Is, Tightly Knotted To You In A Similar Fashion. And When You Go To Ireland, With All That Distance Between Us, I Am Afraid That This Cord Will Be Snapped, And I Shall Bleed Inwardly.

Too Often Do Reviewers Remind Us Of The Mob Of Astrologers, Chaldeans, And Soothsayers Gathered Before 'the Writing On The Wall' And Unable To Read The Characters Or Make Known The Interpretation.

Conventionality Is Not Morality.