You Become What You Behold.

The Fields From Islington To Marybone, To Primrose Hill And Saint John's Wood, Were Builded Over With Pillars Of Gold; And There Jerusalem's Pillars Stood.

Travelers Repose And Dream Among My Leaves.

This Life's Dim Windows Of The Soul Distorts The Heavens From Pole To Pole And Leads You To Believe A Lie When You See With, Not Through, The Eye.

They Who Forgive Most Shall Be Most Forgiven.

As We Are, So We See.