I Must Go In, The Fog Is

The Power To Console Is Not Within Corporeal Reach - Though Its Attempt Is Precious.

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.

The Pedigree Of Honey Does Not Concern The Bee; A Clover, Any Time, To Him Is Aristocracy.

Find Ecstasy In Life; The Mere Sense Of Living Is Joy Enough.

There Is A Solitude Of Space. A Solitude Of Sea. A Solitude Of Death, But These Societies Shall Be Compared With That Profounder Site-that Polar Privacy. A Soul Admitted To Itself--finite Infinity.