If What We Worship Fail Us, Still

Life Is A Stream On Which We Strew Petal By Petal The Flower Of Our Heart.

Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones

If What We Worship Fail Us, Still The Fire Burns On, And It Is Much To Have Believed.

Rapture's Self Is Three Parts Sorrow.

Happiness: We Rarely Feel It. I Would Buy It, Beg It, Steal It, Pay In Coins Of Dripping Blood For This One Transcendent Good.