Which Of Us Has Not

Dürer Would Have Seen A Reason For Living In A Town Like This.

The Mind Is An Enchanting Thing.

The Hands Are The Heart's Messengers.

Concurring Hands Divide Flax For Damask That When Bleached By Irish Weather Has The Silvered Chamois-leather Water-tightness Of A Skin.

We Prove, We Do Not Explain, Our Birth.