You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.

Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.

Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbeloving; Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!

Where the heart lies, let the brain lie also.

God! Thou art love! I build my faith on that.