It Is Greater Than The Stars -

Who Can Tell What Metals The Gods Use In Forging The Subtle Bond Which We Call Sympathy, Which We Might As Well Call Love.

There Were Days When She Was Unhappy, She Did Not Know Why,--when It Did Not Seem Worthwhile To Be Glad Or Sorry, To Be Alive Or Dead; When Life Appeared To Her Like A Grotesque Pandemonium And Humanity Like Worms Struggling Blindly Toward Inevitable Annihilation.

He Could See Plainly That She Was Not Herself. That Is, He Could Not See That She Was Becoming Herself And Daily Casting Aside That Fictitious Self Which We Assume Like A Garment With Which To Appear Before The World.

The Generous Abundance Of Her Passion, Without Guile Or Trickery, Was Like A White Flame Which Penetrated And Found Response In Depths Of His Own Sensuous Nature That Had Never Yet Been Reached.

The Artist Must Possess The Courageous Soul That Dares And Defies