I Want To Question My Belief, So

Men Thin Away To Insignificance And Oblivion Quite As Often By Not Making The Most Of Good Spirits When They Have Them As By Lacking Good Spirits When They Are Indispensable.

That Mercy Towards One Set Of Creatures Was Cruelty Towards Another Sickened His Sense Of Harmony. As You Got Older, And Felt Yourself To Be At The Center Of Your Time, And Not At A Point In Its Circumference, As You Had Felt When You Were Little, You Were Seized With A Sort Of Shuddering, He Perceived. All Around You There Seemed To Be Something Glaring, Garish, Rattling, And The Noises And Glares Hit Upon The Little Cell Called Your Life, And Shook It, And Warped It.

So Each Had A Private Little Sun For Her Soul To Bask In; Some Dream, Some Affection, Some Hobby, Or At Least Some Remote And Distant Hope.

You Are Joseph The Dreamer Of Dreams, Dear Jude. And A Tragic Don Quixote. And Sometimes You Are St. Stephen, Who, While They Were Stoning Him, Could See Heaven Opened. Oh, My Poor Friend And Comrade, You'll Suffer Yet!

The Smile On Your Mouth Was The Deadest Thing Alive Enough To Have Strength To Die. (from "neutral Tones")