That We Devote Ourselves To God, Is

Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

So Munch On, Crunch On, Take Your Nuncheon, Breakfast, Supper, Dinner, Luncheon!

I Dare Not So Honor My Mere Wishes And Prayers As To Put Them For A Moment Beside Your Noble Acts; But This Know, I Would Rather Submit To The Worst Of Deaths, So Far As Pain Goes, Than Have A Single Dog Or Cat Tortured On The Pretence Of Sparing Me A Twinge Or Two.

All Poetry Is Putting The Infinite Within The Finite.

Shun Death, Is My Advice.