Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?
The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him - it cannot fail
I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, All all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems. Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward.
I am large, I contain multitudes
Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.
I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself?