Donald P. Goodman IIIVersion 1.0,
The small enormity that every crib contains, which squeals its tiny plaints with tiny lungs and voice, the little body cloaking with its sad refrains an endless life and love in which he might rejoice; and yet still more enormous, in the winter plains a deathless soul in mortal body still resides— and all eternity eternal still remains, yet in this helpless infant endlessly abides. O vast immensity! which fragile flesh contains! O infinite eternity which body hides! Infinity, so bound in finite iron chains! O deathlessness, which in mortality subsides!