And All I Loved, I Loved Alone.

And Much Of Madness, And More Of Sin, And Horror The Soul Of The Plot.

Thou Wouldst Be Loved? - Then Let Thy Heart From Its Present Pathway Part Not! Being Everything Which Now Thou Art, Be Nothing Which Thou Art Not. So With The World Thy Gentle Ways, Thy Grace, Thy More Than Beauty, Shall Be An Endless Theme Of Praise, And Love - A Simple Duty.

...the Agony Of My Soul Found Vent In One Loud, Long And Final Scream Of Despair.

If The Propositions Of This Discourse Are Tenable, The "state Of Progressive Collapse" Is Precisely That State In Which Alone We Are Warranted In Considering All Things.

I Felt That I Breathed An Atmosphere Of Sorrow.