the light, apophotorejected, he spoors loves from her heats. He
blinkth. But's wrath's the higher where those wreathe charity.
For all of these have been thisworlders, time liquescing into state,
pitiless age grows angelhood. Though, as he stehs, most anysing
may befallhim from a song of a witch to the totter of Blackarss,
given a fammished devil, a young sourceress and (eternal con-
junction) the permission of overalls with the cuperation of night-
shirt. If he spice east he seethes in sooth and if he pierce north
he wilts in the waist. And what wonder with the murkery vice-
heid in the shade? The specks on his lapspan are his foul deed
thougths, wishmarks of mad imogenation. Take they off! Make