The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never

He Who Shall Never Be Divided From Me Kissed My Mouth All Trembling.

If A Thief Helps A Poor Man Out Of The Spoils Of His Thieving, We Must Not Call That Charity.

O Faithful Conscience, Delicately Pure, How Doth A Little Failing Wound Thee Sore!

But Already My Desire And My Will Were Being Turned Like A Wheel, All At One Speed, By The Love Which Moves The Sun And The Other Stars

He Who Know Most Grieves Most For Wasted Time.