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!

Our aspirations are our responsibilities.

Paracelsus At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages’ way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out — not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.

Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.

Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.

Truth is within ourselves.

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe, all were for me, in the kiss of one girl.