Wonder is not precisely knowing.
When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth "for His mercy endureth forever," with confiding revulsion.
To travel far, there is no better ship than a book.
Forever is made up of nows.
To be alive──is Power.
Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb