We Are Not Meant To

The Look Of Love Alarms Because 'tis Filled With Fire; But The Look Of Soft Deceit Shall Win The Lover's Hire.

He Who Sees The Infinite In All Things Sees God.

Sweet Babe, In Thy Face Soft Desires I Can Trace, Secret Joys And Secret Smiles, Little Pretty Infant Wiles.

He Who Replies To Words Of Doubt Doth Put The Light Of Knowledge Out.

Degrade First The Arts If You'd Mankind Degrade. Hire Idiots To Paint With Cold Light & Hot Shade: Give High Price For The Worst, Leave The Best In Disgrace, And With Labours Of Ignorance Fill Every Place.