The Person Who Does Not Believe In

Where There Is Money There Is No Art.

Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.

For The Eye Altering Alters All; The Senses Roll Themselves In Fear And The Flat Earth Becomes A Ball.

The Wrath Of The Lion Is The Wisdom Of God.

The Cistern Contains: The Fountain Overflows.