One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine.

But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.

They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.