Now And Then It's Good

It's Raining My Soul, It's Raining, But It's Raining Dead Eyes.

Without Poets, Without Artists... Everything Would Fall Apart Into Chaos. There Would Be No More Seasons, No More Civilizations, No More Thought, No More Humanity, No More Life Even; And Impotent Darkness Would Reign Forever. Poets And Artists Together Determine The Features Of Their Age, And The Future Meekly Conforms To Their Edit.

In This Mirror, I Am Enclosed A Live And Real As You. Imagine Angels And Not Like The Reflections.

The Plastic Virtues: Purity, Unity, And Truth, Keep Nature In Subjection.

Memories Are Hunting Horns Whose Sound Dies On The Wind.