Now I Shall Go To Sleep. Goodnight.

Gone, Glimmering Through The Dream Of Things That Were.

So Do The Dark In Soul Expire, Or Live Like Scorpion Girt By Fire; So Writhes The Mind Remorse Hath Riven, Unfit For Earth, Undoom'd For Heaven, Darkness Above, Despair Beneath, Around It Flame, Within It Death.

A Material Resurrection Seems Strange And Even Absurd Except For Purposes Of Punishment, And All Punishment Which Is To Revenge Rather Than Correct Must Be Morally Wrong, And When The World Is At An End, What Moral Or Warning Purpose Can Eternal Tortures Answer?

Kill A Man's Family, And He May Brook It, But Keep Your Hands Out Of His Breeches' Pocket.

Shelley Is Truth Itself And Honour Itself Notwithstanding His Out-of-the-way Notions About Religion.