Heat Cannot Be Separated From Fire, Or

If Anyone Should Want To Know My Name, I Am Called Leah. And I Spend All My Time Weaving Garlands Of Flowers With My Fair Hands, T O Please Me When I Stand Before The Mirror; My Sister Rachel Sits All The Day Long Before Her Own, And Never Moves Away. She Loves To Contemplate Her Lovely Eyes; I Love To Use My Hands To Adorn Myself: Her Joy Is In Reflection, Mine In Act.

At Grief So Deep The Tongue Must Wag In Vain; The Language Of Our Sense And Memory Lacks The Vocabulary Of Such Pain.

Perceive Ye Not That We Are Worms, Designed To Form The Angelic Butterfly, That Goes To Judgment, Leaving All Defence Behind? Why Doth Your Mind Take Such Exalted Pose, Since Ye, Disabled, Are As Insects, Mean As Worm Which Never Transformation Knows?

He Listens Well Who Takes Notes.

If The Present World Go Astray, The Cause Is In You, In You It Is To Be Sought.