O false and treacherous Probability,
Enemy of truth, and friend to wickednesse;
With whose bleare eyes opinion learnes to see
Truths feeble party here, and barrennesse.
When thou hast thus misled Humanity,
And lost obedience in the pride of wit,
With reason dar’st thou judge the Deity,
And in thy flesh make bold to fashion it.
Vaine thoght, the word of Power a riddle is,
And till the vayles be rent, the flesh newborne,
Reveales no wonders of that inward blisse,
Which but where faith is, every where findes scorne;
Who therfore censures God with fleshly spirit,
As well in time may wrap up infinite .
Fulke Greville, Caelica, Sonnet CIV.
I dwell in Possibility —
A fairer House than Prose —
More numerous of Windows —
Superior— for Doors —
Of Chambers as the Cedars —
Impregnable of Eye —
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —
Of Visitors — the fairest —
For Occupation — This —
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise —
Emily Dickinson, “I dwell in possibility”.