Ea Robinson Quotes

The world is not a prison house; it is a spiritual kindergarten where millions of bewildered infants are trying to spell G-O-D wih the wrong blocks.

Think you that I forget this Modred's mother Was mine as well as Modred's? When I meet My mother's ghost, what shall I do — forgive? When I'm a ghost, I'll forgive everything . . . It makes me cold to think what a ghost knows. Put out the bonfire burning in my head, And light one at my feet. When the King thought The Queen was in the flames, he called on you: 'God, God,' he said, and 'Lancelot.' I was there, And so I heard him. That was a bad morning For kings and queens, and there are to be worse.

So, for a time, there will be no more war; And you are going home to Camelot." "To Camelot?" . . . "To Camelot." But his words Were said for no queen's hearing. In his arms He caught her when she fell; and in his arms He carried her away. The word of Ron Was in the rain. There was no other sound.

A slow and hollow bell began to sound Somewhere above them, and the world became For Lancelot one wan face — Guinevere's face. "When the bell rings, it rings for you to go," She said; "and you are going ... I am not. Think of me always as I used to be, All white and gold — for that was what you called me. You may see gold again when you are gone; And I shall not be there." — He drew her nearer To kiss the quivering lips that were before him For the last time. "No, not again," she said; "I might forget that I am not alone . . . I shall not see you in this world again, But I am not alone. No, . . . not alone. We have had all there was, and you were kind — Even when you tried so hard once to be cruel. I knew it then .... or now I do. Good-bye." He crushed her cold white hands and saw them falling Away from him like flowers into a grave. When she looked up to see him, he was gone; And that was all she saw till she awoke In her white cell, where the nuns carried her With many tears and many whisperings. "She was the Queen, and he was Lancelot," One said. " They were great lovers. It is not good To know too much of love. We who love God Alone are happiest. Is it not so, Mother?" — "We who love God alone, my child, are safest," The Mother replied; "and we are not all safe Until we are all dead. We watch, and pray.

To get at the eternal strength of things, And fearlessly to make strong songs of it, Is, to my mind, the mission of that man The world would call a poet. He may sing But roughly, and withal ungraciously; But if he touch to life the one right chord Wherein God's music slumbers, and awake To truth one drowsed ambition, he sings well.