Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.

Just a turn of the doorknob, and there lies freedom.

Much Madness is Divinest Sense, to a Discerning Eye.

Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.

Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.