Truth is truth howe'er it strike.
But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.
Earth is crammed with heavens.
Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.
Truth never hurt the teller.