A Mighty Flame Followeth A Tiny Spark.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.

The Well Heeded Well Heard.

So That The Universe Felt Love, By Which, As Somebelieve, The World Has Many Times Been Turned To Chaos. And At That Moment This Ancient Rock, Here And Elsewhere, Fell Broken Into Pieces.

I Am Made Of God, Through His Grace. Such That Your Misery Touches Me Not, Nor Does Flame Of That Burning Assail Me.

There Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember, In Our Present Grief, Past Happiness.