Everything To Be Imagined Is An Image

I Must Create A System Or Be Enslaved By Another Mans; I Will Not Reason And Compare: My Business Is To Create.

The Countless Gold Of A Merry Heart, The Rubies And Pearls Of A Loving Eye, The Indolent Never Can Bring To The Mart, Nor The Secret Hoard Up In His Treasury.

Down The Winding Cavern We Groped Our Tedious Way, Till A Void Boundless As The Nether Sky Appeared Beneath Us, And We Held By The Roots Of Trees And Hung Over This Immensity; But I Said: If You Please We Will Commit Ourselves To This Void And See Whether Providence Is Here Also.

He Whose Face Gives No Light, Shall Never Become A Star.

When Nations Grow Old The Arts Grow Cold And Commerce Settles On Every Tree