What Thou Lovest Well Remains.

This Is No Book. Whoever Touches This Touches A Man.

A Little Light, Like A Rushlight / To Lead Back To Splendour.

The Modern Artist Must Live By Craft And Violence. His Gods Are Violent Gods. Those Artists, So Called, Whose Work Does Not Show This Strife, Are Uninteresting.

Our Own Consciousness Is Incapable Of Having Produce The Universe. God, Therefore, Exists. That Is To Say, There Is No Reason For Not Applying The Term God, Theos, To The Intimate Essence

Quiet This Metal! Let The Manes Put Off Their Terror, Let Them Put Off Their Aqueous Bodies With Fire. Let Them Assume The Milk-white Bodies Of Agate. Let Them Draw Together The Bones Of The Metal.