Will It, And Set To Work Briskly.

One Drop Of Hatred Left In The Cup Of Joy Turns The Most Blissful Draught Into Poison.

Joy, Thou Spark From Heav'n Immortal, Daughter Of Elysium! Drunk With Fire, Toward Heaven Advancing Goddess, To Thy Shrine We Come. Thy Sweet Magic Brings Together What Stern Custom Spreads Afar; All Men Become Brothers Where Thy Happy Wing-beats Are.

The Reason For You Complaint Lies, It Seems To Me, In The Constraint Which Your Intellect Imposes Upon Your Imagination. Here I Will Make An Observation, And Illustrate It By An Allegory. Apparently, It Is Not Good-and Indeed It Hinders The Creative Work Of The Mind-if The If The Intellect Examines Too Closely The Ideas Pouring In, As It Were, At The Gates.

Innocence Has A Friend In Heaven.

The Dream Is Short, Repentance Long.