I Am A Little World Made Cunningly.

But He Who Loveliness Within Hath Found, All Outward Loathes, For He Who Color Loves, And Skin, Loves But Their Oldest Clothes.

Poor Intricated Soul! Riddling, Perplexed, Labyrinthical Soul!

My Love Though Silly Is More Brave.

The Whole Life Of Christ Was A Continual Passion; Others Die Martyrs But Christ Was Born A Martyr. He Found A Golgotha Even In Bethlehem, Where He Was Born; For To His Tenderness Then The Straws Were Almost As Sharp As The Thorns After, And The Manger As Uneasy At First As His Cross At Last. His Birth And His Death Were But One Continual Act, And His Christmas Day And His Good Friday Are But The Evening And Morning Of One And The Same Day. And As Even His Birth Is His Death, So Every Action And Passage That Manifests Christ To Us Is His Birth, For Epiphany Is Manifestation.

The Rich Have No More Of The Kingdom Of Heaven Than They Have Purchased Of The Poor By Their Alms.