Smiling The Boy Fell Dead.

Since There My Past Life Lies, Why Alter It?

Again The Cousin's Whistle! Go, My Love.

Who Knows Most, Doubts Most.

Love, Hope, Fear, Faith - These Make Humanity; These Are Its Sign And Note And Character.

Truth Is Within Ourselves; It Takes No Rise From Outward Things, Whate'er You May Believe. There Is An Inmost Centre In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fulness; And Around, Wall Upon Wall, The Gross Flesh Hems It In, This Perfect, Clear Perception-which Is Truth. A Baffling And Perverting Carnal Mesh Binds It, And Makes All Error: And To Know Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Whence The Imprisoned Splendour May Escape, Than In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.