Sing And Your Hell Is Heaven, Your

Ardent Yet Chill And Formal, How I Ache To Tempt A Chisel As A Sculptor.

Music Sets Up Ladders, It Makes Us Invisible, It Sets Us Apart, It Lets Us Escape; But From The Visible There Is No Escape.

When The Shingles Hissed In The Rain Incendiary, Other Values Were Revealed To Us

Our Minds Can Go No Further. The Human Imagination Is Capable Of No Further Expression Of Beauty Than The Carved Owl Of Athene, The Archaic, Marble Serpent, The Arrogant Selfish Head Of The Acropolis Apollo.

Light Threatens, Is Active, Is Gone, So It Is With A Song.