Man Is An Imitative Creature.

The Empire Of Saturnus Is Gone By; Lord Of The Secret Birth Of Things Is He; Within The Lap Of Earth, And In The Depths Of The Imagination Dominates; And His Are All Things That Eschew The Light. The Time Is O'er Of Brooding And Contrivance, For Jupiter, The Lustrous, Lordeth Now, And The Dark Work, Complete Of Preparation, He Draws By Force Into The Realm Of Light. Now Must We Hasten On To Action, Ere The Scheme, And Most Auspicious Positure Parts O'er My Head, And Takes Once More Its Flight, For The Heavens Journey Still, And Adjourn Not.

Worthless Is The Nation That Does Not Gladly Stake Its All On Its Honor.

Men Show No Mercy And Expect No Mercy, When Honor Calls, Or When They Fight For Their Idols Or Their Gods.

Art Is The Right Hand Of Nature. The Latter Has Only Given Us Being, The Former Has Made Us Men.

Art Is The Daughter Of Freedom.