Beauty Awakens The Soul To Act.

O Human Race, Born To Fly Upward, Wherefore At A Little Wind Dost Thou So Fall?

No Man May Be So Cursed By Priest Or Pope But What The Eternal Love May Still Return While Any Thread Of Green Lives On In Hope.

In The Midway Of This Our Mortal Life, I Found Me In A Gloomy Wood, Astray, Gone From The Path Direct.

Go Forth And Preach Impostures To The World, But Give Them Truth To Build On.

Follow Your Own Star!