He Who Sees The Infinite In All

Does A Firm Persuasion That A Thing Is So, Make It So?

For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing. If Thought Is Life And Strength And Breath And The Want Of Thought Is Death Then Am I A Happy Fly If I Live Or If I Die

Embraces Are Comminglings From The Head Even To The Feet, And Not A Pompous High Priest Entering By A Secret Place.

He Who Shall Hurt The Little Wren Shall Never Be Beloved By Men.

Life Delights In Life.