Yet He Was Jealous, Though He Did

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me, But Let Us Part Fair Foes; I Do Believe, Though I Have Found Them Not, That There May Be Words Which Are Things, Hopes Which Will Not Deceive, And Virtues Which Are Merciful, Or Weave Snares For The Failing: I Would Also Deem O'er Others' Griefs That Some Sincerely Grieve; That Two, Or One, Are Almost What They Seem, That Goodness Is No Name, And Happiness No Dream.

This Is The Patent Age Of New Inventions For Killing Bodies, And For Saving Souls. All Propagated With The Best Intentions.

A Quiet Conscience Makes One So Serene.

Retirement Accords With The Tone Of My Mind; I Will Not Descend To A World I Despise.

Tis Sweet To Listen As The Night Winds Creep From Leaf To Leaf.