This Child Whom We Love, Brings Daylight

God Will Bless You,' Said He, 'you Are An Angel Since You Take Care Of The Flowers.' 'no,' She Replied. 'i Am The Devil, But That's All The Same To Me.

Anger May Be Foolish And Absurd, And One May Be Wrongly Irritated, But A Man Never Feels Outraged Unless In Some Respect He Is Fundamentally Right.

The Nearer I Approach The End, The Plainer I Hear Around Me The Immortal Symphonies Of The Worlds Which Invite Me. It Is Marvelous, Yet Simple.

The Ode Lives Upon The Ideal, The Epic Upon The Grandiose, The Drama Upon The Real.

There Is Suffering In The Light; In Excess It Burns. Flame Is Hostile To The Wing. To Burn And Yet To Fly, This Is The Miracle Of Genius.