All That Is Transitory Is

I Am The Spirit That Negates. And Rightly So, For All That Comes To Be Deserves To Perish Wretchedly; 'twere Better Nothing Would Begin. Thus Everything That That Your Terms, Sin, Destruction, Evil Represent— That Is My Proper Element.

Sweet Moonlight, Shining Full And Clear, Why Do You Light My Torture Here? How Often Have You Seen Me Toil, Burning Last Drops Of Midnight Oil. On Books And Papers As I Read, My Friend, Your Mournful Light You Shed. If Only I Could Flee This Den And Walk The Mountain-tops Again, Through Moonlit Meadows Make My Way, In Mountain Caves With Spirits Play - Released From Learning's Musty Cell, Your Healing Dew Would Make Me Well!

The Rose Is Wont With Pride To Swell, And Ever Seeks To Rise.

Every Decided Colour Does A Certain Violence To The Eye, And Forces The Organ To Opposition.

If You Wish A Wise Answer, You Must Put A Rational Question.