Although I Do Not Hope To Turn

And All Shall Be Well And/ All Manner Of Thing Shall Be Well/ By The Purification Of The Motive/ In The Ground Of Our Beseeching

The Dove Descending Breaks The Air With Flame Of Incandescent Terror Of Which The Tongues Declare The One Discharge From Sin And Error. The Only Hope, Or Else Despair Lies In The Choice Of Pyre Or Pyre- To Be Redeemed From Fire By Fire. Who Then Devised The Torment? Love. Love Is The Unfamiliar Name Behind The Hands That Wove The Intolerable Shirt Of Flame Which Human Power Cannot Remove. We Only Live, Only Suspire Consumed By Either Fire Or Fire.

Each Way Means Loneliness -- And Communion.

Every Phrase And Every Sentence Is An End And A Beginning, Every Poem An Epitaph.

The Rum Tum Tugger Is A Curious Cat: If You Offer Him Pheasant He Would Rather Have Grouse. If You Put Him In A House He Would Much Prefer A Flat, If You Put Him In A Flat Then He'd Rather Have A House. If You Set Him On A Mouse Then He Only Wants A Rat, If You Set Him On A Rat Then He'd Rather Chase A Mouse. Yes The Rum Tum Tugger Is A Curious Cat - And There Isn't Any Call For Me To Shout It: For He Will Do As He Do Do And There's No Doing Anything About It!