The Fairies Break Their Dances And Leave

When The Journey's Over/there'll Be Time Enough To Sleep.

Three Minutes Thought Would Suffice To Find This Out; But Thought Is Irksome And Three Minutes Is A Long Time.

Wanderers Eastward, Wanderers West, Know You Why You Cannot Rest? 'tis That Every Mother's Son Travails With A Skeleton. Lie Down In The Bed Of Dust; Bear The Fruit That Bear You Must; Bring The Eternal Seed To Light, And Morn Is All The Same As Night.

The Average Man, If He Meddles With Criticism At All, Is A Conservative Critic.

To Justify God's Ways To Man.