What Is Now Proved Was Once Only

When A Sinister Person Means To Be Your Enemy, They Always Start By Trying To Become Your Friend.

Ah, Sunflower, Weary Of Time, Who Countest The Steps Of The Sun, Seeking After That Sweet Golden Clime Where The Traveller's Journey Is Done; Where The Youth Pined Away With Desire And The Pale Virgin Shrouded In Snow Arise From Their Graves, And Aspire Where My Sunflower Wishes To Go.

In Your Own Bosom You Bear Your Heaven And Earth, And All You Behold, Though It Appears Without, It Is Within, In Your Imagination, Of Which This World Of Mortality Is But A Shadow.

The Imagination Is Not A State: It Is The Human Existence Itself.

I Must Create A System, Or Be Enslav'd By Another Man's.