Men Might Be Better If

I Run The Gauntlet Of A File Of Doubts, Each One Of Which Down Hurls Me To The Ground.

Corruption Springs From Light: 'tis One Same Power Creates, Preserves, Destroys; Matter Whereon It Works, On E'er Self-transmutative Form, Common To Now The Living, Now The Dead.

The Wind Breathes Not, And The Wave Walks Softly As Above A Grave.

Application Is The Price To Be Paid For Mental Acquisition. To Have The Harvest, We Must Sow The Seed.

Thou Art A Woman, And That Is Saying The Best And Worst Of Thee.