Poetry Is The Devil's Wine.

I Held My Heart Back From Positively Accepting Anything, Since I Was Afraid Of Another Fall, And In This Condition Of Suspense I Was Being All The More Killed.

The Soul, Which Is Spirit, Can Not Dwell In Dust; It Is Carried Along To Dwell In The Blood.

Seek Not To Understand That You May Believe, But Believe That You May Understand.

This Awful Catastrophe Is Not The End But The Beginning. History Does Not End So. It Is The Way Its Chapters Open.

Great Are Those Two Gifts, Wisdom And Continence: Wisdom, Forsooth, Whereby We Are Formed In The Knowledge Of God; Continence Whereby We Are Not Conformed To This World.