Frienship Is Eros...without Wings

The Image Of Eternity--the Throne Of The Invisible; Even From Out Thy Slime The Monsters Of The Deep Are Made; Each Zone Obeys Thee; Thou Goest Forth, Dread, Fathomless, Alone.

Thy Decay's Still Impregnate With Divinity.

The Mind Can Make Substance, And People Planets Of Its Own With Beings Brighter Than Have Been, And Give A Breath To Forms Which Can Outlive All Flesh.

But At Sixteen The Conscience Rarely Gnaws So Much, As When We Call Our Old Debts In At Sixty Years, And Draw The Accounts Of Evil, And Find A Deuced Balance With The Devil.

And The Commencement Of Atonement Is The Sense Of Its Necessity.