I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see The lost are like this, and their scourge to be As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night!

Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.

Here! creep, Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

To regret your sins of commission as much as your sins of omission is to prove yourself a most unworthy sinner.

Humans - who enslave, castrate, experiment on, and fillet other animals - have had an understandable penchant for pretending animals do not feel pain. A sharp …

By the sympathy of your human hearts for sin ye shall scent out all the places - whether in church, bedchamber, street, field, or forest - where crime has been…