Solitude Is Sometimes Best Society.

All Hope Is Lost Of My Reception Into Grace; What Worse? For Where No Hope Is Left, Is Left No Fear.

Law Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove, Save By Those Shadowy Expiations Weak.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed.

Back To Thy Punishment, False Fugitive, And To Thy Speed Add Wings.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed, But, Swoln With Wind, And The Rank Mist They Draw, Rot Inwardly, And Foul Contagion Spread: Besides What The Grim Wolf With Privy Paw Daily Devours Apace, And Nothing Said; But That Two-handed Engine At The Door Stands Ready To Smite Once, And Smite No More.