Souls Are Not Saved In Bundles.

I Am A Willow Of The Wilderness, Loving The Wind That Bent Me.

Behind Us, As We Go, All Things Assume Pleasing Forms, As Clouds Do Far Off. Not Only Things Familiar And Stale, But Even The Tragic And Terrible, Are Comely, As They Take Their Place In The Pictures Of Memory.

If You Put A Chain Around The Neck Of A Slave, The Other End Fastens Itself Around Your Own.

All Things Are Known To The Soul.

All My Best Thoughts Were Stolen By The Ancients.