The Beautiful Arises From The Perceived Harmony

What If You Slept? And What If, In Your Sleep, You Went To Heaven And There Plucked A Strange And Beautiful Flower? And What If,when You Awoke,you Had The Flower In Your Hand? Ah, What Then?

Talk Of The Devil, And His Horns Appear.

A Poet Ought Not To Pick Nature's Pocket. Let Him Borrow, And So Borrow As To Repay By The Very Act Of Borrowing. Examine Nature Accurately, But Write From Recollection, And Trust More To The Imagination Than The Memory.

Common Sense In An Uncommon Degree Is What The World Calls Wisdom.

O Lady! We Receive But What We Give And In Our Life Alone Does Nature Live.