Every Tear From Every Eyebecomes A Babe

Harmony Of Colouring Is Destructive Of Art? It Is Like The Smile Of A Fool.

I Went To The Garden Of Love, And Saw What I Never Had Seen: A Chapel Was Built In The Midst, Where I Used To Play On The Green. And The Gates Of This Chapel Were Shut, And 'thou Shalt Not' Writ Over The Door; So I Turn'd To The Garden Of Love, That So Many Sweet Flowers Bore. And I Saw It Was Filled With Graves, And Tomb-stones Where Flowers Should Be: And Priests In Black Gowns, Were Walking Their Rounds, And Binding With Briars, My Joys & Desires.

Mere Enthusiasm Is The All In All.

I Am Going To That Country Which I Have All My Life Wished To See.

Celebrate Your Existence!