Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
“Yet creeds mean very little, Coth answered the dark god, still speaking almost gently. The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true.”
“What good to me is the festive garment of freedom when I am in a slave's smock at home?”