You Don't Talk Quite Like A Girl

And Yet To Every Bad There Is A Worse.

Black Chaos Comes, And The Fettered Gods Of The Earth Say, Let There Be Light.

What Is It, Angel?" She Said, Starting Up. "have They Come For Me?" "yes, Dearest," He Said. "they Have Come." "it Is As It Should Be," She Murmured. "angel, I Am Almost Glad—yes, Glad! This Happiness Could Not Have Lasted. It Was Too Much. I Have Had Enough; And Now I Shall Not Live For You To Despise Me!" She Stood Up, Shook Herself, And Went Forward, Neither Of The Men Having Moved. "i Am Ready," She Said Quietly.

...our Impulses Are Too Strong For Our Judgement Sometimes

So Do Flux And Reflux--the Rhythm Of Change--alternate And Persist In Everything Under The Sky.