I Throw Myself Down In My Chamber,

For I Am Every Dead Thing In Whom Love Wrought New Alchemy For His Art Did Express A Quintessence Even From Nothingness, From Dull Privations, And Lean Emptiness He Ruined Me, And I Am Re-begot Of Absence, Darkness, Death; Things Which Are Not.

Verse Hath A Middle Nature: Heaven Keeps Souls, The Grave Keeps Bodies, Verse The Fame Enrols.

Between These Two, The Denying Of Sins, Which We Have Done, And The Bragging Of Sins, Which We Have Not Done, What A Space, What A Compass Is There, For Millions Of Millions Of Sins!

A Man That Is Not Afraid Of A Lion Is Afraid Of A Cat .

If I Lose At Play, I Blaspheme; If My Fellow Loses, He Blasphemes. So, God Is Always The Loser.