A key no thief can steal, no time can rust; A faery door, adventurous and golden; A palace, perfect to our eyes-Ah must Our eyes be holden? Has the past died before this present sin? Has this most cruel age already stoned To martyrdom that magic Day, within Those halls, enthroned? No. Through the dancing of the young spring rain, Through the faint summer, and the autumn's burning, Our still immortal Day has heard again Our steps returning."

This is the end, for the moment, of all my thinking, this is my unfinal conclusion. There is no reason in tangible things, and no system in the ordinary ways of the world. Hands were made to grope, and feet to stumble, and the only things you may count on are the unaccountable things. System is a fairy and a dream, you never find system where or when you expect it. There are no reasons except reasons you and I don't know.

This is the end, for the moment, of all my thinking, this is my unfinal conclusion. There is no reason in tangible things, and no system in the ordinary ways of the world. Hands were made to grope, and feet to stumble, and the only things you may count on are the unaccountable things. System is a fairy and a dream, you never find system where or when you expect it. There are no reasons except reasons you and I don't know.