And The Earth Self-balanced On Her Centre

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed, But, Swoln With Wind, And The Rank Mist They Draw, Rot Inwardly, And Foul Contagion Spread: Besides What The Grim Wolf With Privy Paw Daily Devours Apace, And Nothing Said; But That Two-handed Engine At The Door Stands Ready To Smite Once, And Smite No More.

Praise From An Enemy Smells Of Craft.

Knowledge Forbidden? Suspicious, Reasonless. Why Should Their Lord Envy Them That? Can It Be A Sin To Know? Can It Be Death?

Such Sober Certainty Of Waking Bliss.

But Peaceful Was The Night Wherein The Prince Of Light His Reign Of Peace Upon The Earth Began.