The Child Saies Nothing, But What It

He Hath Great Neede Of A Foole, That Plaies The Foole Himselfe.

I Escaped The Thunder, And Fell Into The Lightning.

Church Bells Beyond The Stars Heard, The Soul's Blood, The Land Of Spices; Something Understood.

If The Staffe Be Crooked, The Shadow Cannot Be Straight.

Grief Melts Away Like Snow In May, As If There Were No Such Cold Thing.