Let Me Into The Darkness Again.

The Voice Of God Whispers In The Heart So Softly That The Soul Pauses, Making No Noise, And Strives For These Melodies, Distant, Sighing, Like Faintest Breath, And All The Being Is Still To Hear.

It Perhaps Might Be Said--if Any One Dared--that The Most Worthless Literature Of The World Has Been That Which Has Been Written By The Men Of One Nation Concerning The Men Of Another.

If There Is A Witness To My Little Life,to My Tiny Throes And Struggles,he Sees A Fool;and It Is Not Fine For Gods To Menace Fools.

A Mysterious Fraternity Born Out Of Smoke And Danger Of Death.

Truth ... Is A Breath, A Wind, A Shadow, A Phantom; Long Have I Pursued It, But Never Have I Touched The Hem Of Its Garment.