Overdraw Me, Lord, And Who Cares If

My Soul Comes From Better Worlds And I Have An Incurable Homesickness Of The Stars.

The Human Soul Is Heavy, Clumsy, Held In The Mud Of The Flesh. Its Perceptions Are Still Coarse And Brutish. It Can Divine Nothing Clearly, Nothing With Certainty.

When Everything Goes Wrong, What A Joy To Test Your Soul And See If It Has Endurance And Courage! An Invisible And All-powerful Enemy—some Call Him God, Others The Devil, Seem To Rush Upon Us To Destroy Us; But We Are Not Destroyed.

No Wide Road Leads To God.

May He Be Cursed On Earth Who Gives His Trust To Virtue, That Bankrupt Crone Who Takes Our Life's Pure Gold And Gives But Bad Receipts For Payment In The Lower World. Ah, Passers-by That Stroll, Travelers That Come And Go, All That I Had, I Placed On Virtue, And Lost The Game!