I Have Measured Out My Life With

The Dream Crossed Twilight Between Birth And Dying.

At The Still Point, There The Dance Is.

And All Shall Be Well And/ All Manner Of Thing Shall Be Well/ By The Purification Of The Motive/ In The Ground Of Our Beseeching

People To Whom Nothing Has Ever Happened Cannot Understand The Unimportance Of Events.

The More Perfect The Artist, The More Completely Separate In Him Will Be The Man Who Suffers And The Mind Which Creates.