Thriftless Ambition, That Wilt Ravin Up Thine

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

He Who Has Injured Thee Was Either Stronger Or Weaker Than Thee. If Weaker, Spare Him; If Stronger, Spare Thyself.

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

Why Then, O Brawling Love! O Loving Hate! O Any Thing, Of Nothing First Create! O Heavy Lightness, Serious Vanity, Misshapen Chaos Of Well-seeming Forms, Feather Of Lead, Bright Smoke, Cold Fire, Sick Health, Still-waking Sleep, That Is Not What It Is! This Love Feel I, That Feel No Love In This.

Help, Master, Help! Here's A Fish Hangs In The Net, Like A Poor Man's Right In The Law; 'twill Hardly Come Out.