A Skylark Wounded In The Wing, /

He Who Makes His Law A Curse, By His Own Law Shall Surely Die.

On No Other Ground Can I Sow My Seed Without Tearing Up Some Stinking Weed.

Bring Me My Bow Of Burning Gold: Bring Me My Arrows Of Desire: Bring Me My Spear: O Clouds, Unfold! Bring Me My Chariot Of Fire.

Nothing Is Real Beyond Imaginative Patterns Men Make Of Reality.

You Never Know What Is Enough Unless You Know What Is More Than Enough.