The Pale Child, Eve, Leading Her Mother,

A Single Soul Is Richer Than All The Worlds.

If A Man Is Worth Knowing At All, He Is Worth Knowing Well.

And In Any Case, To The Old Man, When The World Becomes Trite, The Triteness Arises Not So Much From A Cessation As From A Transference Of Interest. What Is Taken From This World Is Given To The Next. The Glory Is In The East In The Morning, It Is In The West In The Afternoon, And When It Is Dark The Splendour Is Irradiating The Realm Of The Under-world. He Would Only Follow.

The Man Who In This World Can Keep The Whiteness Of His Soul Is Not Likely To Lose It In Any Other.

The Dead Keep Their Secrets, And In A While We Shall Be As Wise As They - And As Taciturn.