I Think If I Were Dying And

There's Something Beautiful About Finding One's Innermost Thoughts In Another.

It Is The Swimmer Who First Leaps Into The Frozen Stream Who Is Cut Sharpest By The Ice; Those Who Follow Him Find It Broken, And The Last Find It Gone. It Is The Men Or Women Who First Tread Down The Path Which The Bulk Of Humanity Will Ultimately Follow, Who Must Find Themselves At Last In Solitudes Where The Silence Is Deadly.

Power! Did You Ever Hear Of Men Being Asked Whether Other Souls Should Have Power Or Not? It Is Born In Them.

I Think If I Were Dying And I Heard Of An Act Of Injustice, It Would Start Me Up To A Moment's Life Again.

Perhaps The Old Monks Were Right When They Tried To Root Love Out; Perhaps The Poets Are Right When They Try To Water It. It Is A Blood-red Flower, With The Color Of Sin; But There Is Always The Scent Of A God About It.