What Man Is Such A

The World Is Quite Ruthless In Selecting Between The Dream And The Reality, Even Where We Will Not.

Goodness Will Find The Little Boy. It Always Has. It Will Again.

The Cooler Days Have Brought A Wistful Mood Upon Him. The Smell Of Coalsmoke In The Air At Night. Old Times, Dead Years. For Him Such Memories Are Bitter Ones.

It Was Always Himself That The Coward Abandoned First. After This All Other Betrayals Came Easily.

The Night Sky Lies So Sprent With Stars That There Is Scarcely Space Of Black At All And They Fall All Night In Bitter Arcs And It Is So That Their Numbers Are No Less.