The Career Of Flowers Differs From Ours

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

This So Much Joy! This So Much Joy! If I Should Fail, What Poverty! And Yet, As Poor As I Have Ventured All Upon A Throw; Have Gained! Yes! Hesitated So This Side The Victory!

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

It Sounded As If The Streets Were Running, And Then The Streets Stood Still.

God Gave A Loaf To Every Bird, But Just A Crumb To Me.