I Was Last In Rome In Ad

I Was Thinking, "so, I’m Emperor, Am I? What Nonsense! But At Least I'll Be Able To Make People Read My Books Now.

Love Without Hope, As When The Young Bird-catcher Swept Off His Tall Hat To The Squire's Own Daughter, So Let The Imprisoned Larks Escape And Fly Singing About Her Head, As She Rode By.

Take Your Delight In Momentariness, Walk Between Dark And Dark A Shining Space With The Grave 's Narrowness, Though Not Its Peace.

Abstract Reason, Formerly The Servant Of Practical Human Reasons, Has Everywhere Become Its Master, And Denies Poetry Any Excuse For Existence. Though Philosophers Like To Define Poetry As Irrational Fancy, For Us It Is Practical, Humorous, Reasonable Way Of Being Ourselves. Of Never Acquiescing In A Fraud; Of Never Accepting The Secondary-rate In Poetry, Painting, Music, Love, Friends. Of Safeguarding Our Poetic Institutions Against The Encroachments Of Mechanized, Insensate, Inhumane, Abstract Rationality.

No Honest Theologian Therefore Can Deny That His Acceptance Of Jesus As Christ Logically Binds Every Christian To A Belief In Reincarnation - In Elias Case (who Was Later John The Baptist) At Least.