The True Church Can Never Fail. For

His Laughter Tinkled Among The Teacups.

I Am Aware Of The Damp Souls Of Housemaids Sprouting Despondently At Area Gates.

Poetry Is A Mug's Game.

…forgive Us, O Lord, We Acknowledge Ourselves As Type Of The Common Man, Of The Men And Women Who Shut The Door And Sit By The Fire; Who Fear The Blessing Of God, The Loneliness Of The Night Of God, The Surrender Required, The Deprivation Inflicted; Who Fear The Injustice Of Men Less Than The Justice Of God; Who Fear The Hand At The Window, The Fire In The Thatch, The Fist In The Tavern, The Push Into The Canal, Less Than We Fear The Love Of God.

The Definition Of Hell Is A Place Where Nothing Connects With Nothing.