It Was Not Certain What Significance The

Lingering Is So Very Lonely When One Lingers All Alone.

For What Use Are Books To Anyone Whose Days Are Like A Rook's Nest With Every Twig A Duty.

I Am Too Rich Already, For My Eyes Mint Gold, While My Heart Cries.

The Sun Sank With A Sob And Darkness Waded In From All Horizons So That The Sky Contracted And There Was No More Light Left In The World, When, At This Very Moment Of Annihilation, The Moon, As Though She Had Been Waiting For Her Cue, Sailed Up The Night.

There Is A Brotherhood Among The Kindly- Closer And Defter And More Integral- Than Any Of Aisle Or Coven- For Love Rang Out Before The Chapel Bell