In Heaven We Are All Ghostwriters, If

The Problem For The King Is Just How Strict The Lack Of Liberty, The Squeeze Of The Law And Discipline Should Be In School And State.

Oh, Give Us Pleasure In The Flowers To-day; And Give Us Not To Think So Far Away As The Uncertain Harvest; Keep Us Here All Simply In The Springing Of The Year. Oh, Give Us Pleasure In The Orchard White, Like Nothing Else By Day, Like Ghosts By Night; And Make Us Happy In The Happy Bees, The Swarm Dilating Round The Perfect Trees.

The Truth Is The River Flows Into The Canyon Of Ceasing-to-question-what-doesn't-concern-us, As Sooner Or Later We Have To Cease Somewhere.

The Nearest Friends Can Go With Anyone To Death, Comes So Far Short They Might As Well Not Try To Go At All.

Any Eye Is An Evil Eye That Looks In On To A Mood Apart.