When The Doors Of Perception

He Who Kisses Joy As It Flies By Will Live In Eternity's Sunrise.

And I Made A Rural Pen, And I Stained The Water Clear, And I Wrote My Happy Songs Every Child May Joy To Hear.

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

If Others Had Not Been Foolish, We Should Be So.

Commerce Is So Far From Being Beneficial To Arts, Or To Empire, That It Is Destructive Of Both, As All Their History Shows, For The Above Reason Of Individual Merit Being Its Great Hatred. Empires Flourish Till They Become Commercial, And Then They Are Scattered Abroad To The Four Winds.