Nature Is The Art Of God.

There Sighs, Lamentations And Loud Wailings Resounded Through The Starless Air, So That At First It Made Me Weep; Strange Tongues, Horrible Language, Words Of Pain, Tones Of Anger, Voices Loud And Hoarse, And With These The Sound Of Hands, Made A Tumult Which Is Whirling Through That Air Forever Dark, And Sand Eddies In A Whirlwind.

At This High Moment, Ability Failed My Capacity To Describe.

If A Thief Helps A Poor Man Out Of The Spoils Of His Thieving, We Must Not Call That Charity.

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before Which Little Can Be Read, There Is A Heading, Which Says: ‘incipit Vita Nova: Here Begins The New Life’.

These Dwell Among The Blackest Souls,loaded Down Deep By Sins Of Differing Types.if You Sink Far Enough,you'll See Them All.