He Hath Awakened From The

The Quick Dreams, The Passion-winged Ministers Of Thought.

As Belief Is A Passion Of The Mind, No Degree Of Criminality Is Attachable To Disbelief.

My Father Time Is Weak And Gray With Waiting For A Better Day; See How Idiot-like He Stands, Fumbling With His Palsied Hands!

Cold Hopes Swarm Like Worms Within Our Living Clay.

All Love Is Sweet, Given Or Received.