The Past Is Not A Package One

Faith Is A Fine Invention When Gentlemen Can See, But Microscopes Are Prudent In An Emergency.

Apparently With No Surprise To Any Happy Flower The Frost Beheads It At Its Play -- In Accidental Power -- The Blonde Assassin Passes On -- The Sun Proceeds Unmoved To Measure Off Another Day For An Approving God.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

Inebriate Of Air Am I, And Debauchee Of Dew, Reeling, Through Endless Summer Days, From Inns Of Molten Blue.

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!