For Man's Greatest Crime Is

At The Point When Affection Is Not Frenzy, It Is Not Adore.

Green Is The Prime Color Of The World, And That From Which Its Loveliness Arises.

In This Treacherous World Nothing Is The Truth Nor A Lie. Everything Depends On The Color Of The Crystal Through Which One Sees It

Dreams Are Rough Copies Of The Waking Soul Yet Uncorrected Of The Higher Will, So That Men Sometimes In Their Dreams Confess An Unsuspected, Or Forgotten, Self; -since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, Are Akin In Missing Each That Salutory Rein Of Reason, And The Grinding Will Of Man.

But Whether It Be Dream Or Truth, To Do Well Is What Matters. If It Be Truth, For Truth's Sake. If Not, Then To Gain Friends For The Time When We Awaken.