Here my powers rest from their high fantasy, but already I could feel my being turned- instinct and intellect balanced equally. as in a wheel whose motion nothing jars- by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.

I found myself within a forest dark.

The well heeded well heard.

He listens well who takes notes.

In each fire there is a spirit; Each one is wrapped in what is burning him.

Here let dead poetry rise once more to life.

One ought to be afraid of nothing other then things possessed of power to do us harm, but things innoucuous need not be feared.