But Curb Thou The High Spirit In

From His Tongue Flowed Speech Sweeter Than Honey.

Ah How Shameless – The Way These Mortals Blame The Gods. From Us Alone They Say Come All Their Miseries Yes But They Themselves With Their Own Reckless Ways Compound Their Pains Beyond Their Proper Share.

I Didn't Lie! I Just Created Fiction With My Mouth!

One Who Journeying Along A Way He Knows Not, Having Crossed A Place Of Drear Extent, Before Him Sees A River Rushing Swiftly Toward The Deep, And All Its Tossing Current White With Foam, And Stops And Turns, And Measures Back His Way.

There Is A Fullness Of All Things, Even Of Sleep And Love.