A Dead Body Revenges Not Injuries.

The Foundation Of Empire Is Art And Science. Remove Them Or Degrade Them, And The Empire Is No More. Empire Follows Art And Not Vice Versa As Englishmen Suppose.

The Modest Rose Puts Forth A Thorn,the Humble Sheep A Threat'ning Horn:while The Lily White Shall In Love Delight,nor A Thorn Nor A Threat Stain Her Beauty Bright.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.

I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!

The Mocker Of Art Is The Mocker Of Jesus.