Thou Art A Woman, And That Is

The Ground Of All Great Thoughts Is Sadness.

As The Master So The Valet.

Imagination Is The Air Of Mind.

Any Heart Turned Godward Feels More Joyin One Short Hour Of Prayer, Than E'er Was Raisedby All The Feasts Of Earth Since Its Foundation.

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.