I Dream In Fire But Work In

In Every Grain Of Wheat There Lies Hidden The Soul Of A Star.

Very Softly, But Very Swiftly, Last, The Man With The Grey Face And The Staring Eyes, Bolted For His Life, Down And Away From The White House. Once In The Road, Free From The Fields And Brakes, He Changed His Run Into A Walk, And He Never Paused Or Stopped, Till He Came With A Gulp Of Relief Into The Ugly Streets Of The Big Industrial Town. He Made Hi Way To The Station At Once, And Found That He Was An Hour Too Soon For The London Express. So, There Was Plenty Of Time For Breakfast; Which Consisted Of Brandy.

There Are Sacraments Of Evil As Well As Of Good About Us, And We Live And Move To My Belief In An Unknown World, A Place Where There Are Caves And Shadows And Dwellers In Twilight. It Is Possible That Man May Sometimes Return On The Track Of Evolution, And It Is My Belief That An Awful Lore Is Not Yet Dead.

And It Is Utterly True That He Who Cannot Find Wonder, Mystery, Awe, The Sense Of A New World And An Undiscovered Realm In The Places By The Gray's Inn Road Will Never Find These Secrets Elsewhere.

There Are Strange Things Lost And Forgotten In Obscure Corners Of The Newspaper.