No half-heartedness and no worldly fear must turn us aside from following the light unflinchingly.

The treacherous are ever distrustful.

out of the frying pan and into the fire

But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?

Tears unnumbered ye shall shed.

It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart.

I don't know, and I would rather not guess.