Into This Wild Abyss, The

... Then There Was War In Heaven. But It Was Not Angels. It Was That Small Golden Zeppelin, Like A Long Oval World, High Up. It Seemed As If The Cosmic Order Were Gone, As If There Had Come A New Order, A New Heavens Above Us: And As If The World In Anger Were Trying To Revoke It.

Ink Is The Blood Of The Printing-press.

The Conquer'd, Also, And Enslaved By War, Shall, With Their Freedom Lost, All Virtue Lose.

Freely We Serve, Because Freely We Love.

The Love-lorn Nightingale Nightly To Thee Her Sad Song Mourneth Well.