The Roaring Of The Wind Is My

Nor Do We Merely Feel These Essences For One Short Hour No, Even As These Trees That Whisper Round A Temple Become Soon Dear As The Temples Self, So Does The Moon, The Passion Posey, Glories Infinite, Haunt Us Till They Become A Cheering Light Unto Our Souls And Bound To Us So Fast, That Wheather There Be Shine, Or Gloom O'er Cast, They Always Must Be With Us, Or We Die.

My Creed Is Love And You Are Its Only Tenet.

A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever.

O Latest Born And Loveliest Vision Far Of All Olympus' Faded Hierarchy.

Nothing Ever Becomes Real Till It Is Experienced.