The Iron Chain And The Silken Cord

It Is Only Through The Morning Gate Of The Beautiful That You Can Penetrate Into The Realm Of Knowledge. That Which We Feel Here As Beauty We Shall One Day Know As Truth.

The Storm Is Master. Man, As A Ball, Is Tossed Twixt Winds And Billows.

Let Him That Sows The Serpent's Teeth Not Hope To Reap A Joyous Harvest. Every Crime Has, In The Moment Of Its Perpetration, Its Own Avenging Angel,--dark Misgivings At The Inmost Heart.

Think With Awe On The Slow And Quiet Power Of Time.

Illusion Is Brief, But Repentance Is Long.