It Is No Learning To Understand What

If You Follow Your Natural Bent;you Will Definitely Go To Heaven

Remember Tonight... For It Is The Beginning Of Always.

O Power Of Fantasy That Steals Our Minds From Things Outside, To Leave Us Unaware, Although A Thousand Trumpets May Blow Loud--what Stirs You If The Senses Show You Nothing? Light Stirs You, Formed In Heaven, By Itself, Or By His Will Who Sends It Down To Us.

All Your Renown Is Like The Summer Flower That Blooms And Dies; Because The Sunny Glow Which Brings It Forth, Soon Slays With Parching Power.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.