Life Death All Does End And Each

No Wonder Of It: Sheer Plod Makes Plough Down Sillion Shine, And Blue-bleak Embers, Ah My Dear, Fall, Gall Themselves, And Gash Gold-vermilion.

Natural Heart's Ivy, Patience Masks Our Ruins Of Wrecked Past Purpose.

The Poetical Language Of An Age Should Be The Current Language Heightened.

Let Him Easter In Us, Be A Dayspring To The Dimness Of Us, Be A Crimson-cresseted East.

You Do Not Mean By Mystery What A Catholic Does. You Mean An Interesting Uncertainty: The Uncertainty Ceasing Interest Ceases Also.... But A Catholic By Mystery Means An Incomprehensible Certainty: Without Certainty, Without Formulation There Is No Interest;... The Clearer The Formulation The Greater The Interest.