I Shall Not Live 'till I See

To Know And Feel All This And Not Have The Words To Express It Makes A Human A Grave Of His Own Thoughts.

And What Is So Intricate, So Entangling As Death? Who Ever Got Out Of A Winding Sheet?

Great Sins Are Great Possessions; But Levities And Vanities Possess Us Too; And Men Had Rather Part With Christ Than With Any Possession.

And When A Whirl-winde Hath Blowne The Dust Of The Churchyard Into The Church, And Man Sweeps Out The Dust Of The Church Into The Church-yard, Who Will Undertake To Sift Those Dusts Again, And To Pronounce, This Is The Patrician, This Is The Noble Flower, And This The Yeomanly, This The Plebian Bran.

Poor Intricated Soul! Riddling, Perplexed, Labyrinthical Soul!