They Deem Me Mad Because

You Cannot Lay Remorse Upon The Innocent Nor Lift It From The Heart Of The Guilty. Unbidden Shall It Call In The Night, That Men May Wake And Gaze Upon Themselves.

Happiness Is A Myth We Seek, If Manifested Surely Irks; Like River Speeding To The Plain, On Its Arrival Slows And Murks. For Man Is Happy Only In His Aspiration To The Heights; When He Attains His Goal, He Cools And Longs For Other Distant Flights.

To Love Life Through Our Labor Is To Be Intimate With Life's Inmost Secrets.

I Wash My Hands Of Those Who Imagine Chattering To Be Knowledge, Silence To Be Ignorance, And Affection To Be Art.

Happiness Is A Vine That Takes Root And Grows Within The Heart, Never Outside It.