Luck's A Chance, But Trouble's Sure.

June Suns, You Cannot Store Them To Warm The Winter's Cold, The Lad That Hopes For Heaven Shall Fill His Mouth With Mould.

All Knowledge Is Precious Whether Or Not It Serves The Slightest Human Use.

Good Religious Poetry... Is Likely To Be Most Justly Appreciated And Most Discriminately Relished By The Undevout.

I Am Not A Pessimist But A Pejorist (as George Eliot Said She Was Not An Optimist But A Meliorist); And That Philosophy Is Founded On My Observation Of The World, Not On Anything So Trivial And Irrelevant As Personal History.

And How Am I To Face The Odds Of Man's Bedevilment And God's? I, A Stranger And Afraid In A World I Never Made.