How good is life, the mere living!

In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity

This could but have happened once,- And we missed it, lost it forever.

The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.

Faultless to a fault.