he began to fear that his judgment of them had been blind. - Stephen Crane

ONCE, I KNEW A FINE SONG, — IT IS TRUE, BELIEVE ME, — IT WAS ALL OF BIRDS,
AND I HELD THEM IN A BASKET;
WHEN I OPENED THE WICKET,
HEAVENS! THEY ALL FLEW AWAY.
I CRIED, ’COME BACK, LITTLE THOUGHTS!’
BUT THEY ONLY LAUGHED.
THEY FLEW ON
UNTIL THEY WERE AS SAND
THROWN BETWEEN ME AND THE SKY.

Every sin is the result of a colaboration

many red devils ran from my heart and out upon the page, they were so tiny the pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange to write in this red much of things from my heart.