My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain When Time and God give judgment.

Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.

Hope thou not much, and fear thou not at all.

The beast faith lives on its own dung.

Thou has conquered, O pale Galilean.

There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.

I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.