Beloved, Let Us Live So Well Our

God Only, Who Made Us Rich, Can Make Us Poor.

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless; That Only Men Incredulous Of Despair, Half-taught In Anguish, Through The Midnight Air Beat Upward To God's Throne In Loud Access Of Shrieking And Reproach

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

Our Euripides The Human, With His Droppings Of Warm Tears, And His Touchings Of Things Common Till They Rose To Meet The Spheres.

If I Leave All For Thee, Wilt Thou Exchange And Be All To Me?