Is it true, O Christ in heaven, that the highest suffer the most? That the strongest wander furthest and most hopelessly are lost? That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain? That the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?

But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.

And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.

He who destroys a good book kills reason itself.

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

Innocence, Once Lost, Can Never Be Regained. Darkness, Once Gazed Upon, Can Never Be Lost.

Tears such as angels weep.