Our Enemies Are Our Outward Consciences.

If Love Be Blind, Love Cannot Hit The Mark

A Heaven On Earth I Have Won By Wooing Thee.

My Grief Lies All Within, And These External Manners Of Lament Are Merely Shadows To The Unseen Grief That Swells With Silence In The Tortured Soul.

We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And Lose By Over-running.

For So Work The Honey Bees, Creatures That By A Rule In Nature Teach The Act Of Order To A Peopled Kingdom.