In The Sinews Of The Dead There

Overly Persuasive A Woman's Ordinance Spreads Far, Traveling Fast; But Fast Dying A Rumor Voiced By A Woman Perishes.

If You Will Take Me As Your Teacher, You Will Not Kick Against The Pricks.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

Fortune Is For All, Judgment Is Theirs Who Have Won It For Themselves.

Oh, It Is Easy For The One Who Stands Outside The Prison-wall Of Pain To Exhort And Teach The One Who Suffers.