The Divine Art Is The Story.

Truth, Like Time, Is An Idea Arising From, And Dependent Upon, Human Intercourse.

"do You Know A Cure For Me?" Why Yes," He Said, "i Know A Cure For Everything. Salt Water." Salt Water?" I Asked Him. Yes," He Said, "in One Way Or The Other. Sweat, Or Tears, Or The Salt Sea".

Through All The World There Goes One Long Cry From The Heart Of The Artist: Give Me A Chance To Do My Best.

A Visitor Is A Friend, He Brings News, Good Or Bad, Which Is Bread To The Hungry Minds In Lonely Places. A Real Friend Who Comes To The House Is A Heavenly Messenger, Who Brings The Panis Angelorum.

I Will Not Let Thee Go, Except Thou Bless Me.