I See My Trees Repair Their Boughs.

The Inquiry Leads Us To That Source, At Once The Essence Of Genius, Of Virtue, And Of Life, Which We Call Spontaneity Or Instinct.

The Art Of Sculpture Is Long Ago Perished To Any Real Effect... It Is The Game Of A Rude And Youthful People, And Not The Manly Labour Of A Wise And Spiritual Nation.

Power And Speed Be Hands And Feet.

Law Rules Throughout Existence, A Law Which Is Not Intelligent, But Intelligence.

Perception Is A Mirror Not A Fact. And What I Look On Is My State Of Mind, Reflected Outward.