The World Of Imagination Is

The Pure Soul Shall Mount On Native Wings, . . . And Cut A Path Into The Heaven Of Glory.

He Whose Face Gives No Light, Shall Never Become A Star.

You Throw The Sand Against The Wind And The Wind Blows It Back Again.

The Lamb Misused Breeds Public Strife And Yet Forgives The Butcher's Knife.

Lo! Now The Direful Monster, Whose Skin Clings To His Strong Bones, Strides O'er The Groaning Rocks: He Withers All In Silence, And His Hand Unclothes The Earth, And Freezes Up Frail Life.