Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A

Wisdom Is Sold In A Desolate Marketplace Where None Can Come To Buy.

O God, Protect Me From My Friends, That They Have Not Power Over Me. Thou Hast Giv'n Me Power To Protect Myself From Thy Bitterest Enemies.

I Must Create A System Or Be Enslaved By Another Mans; I Will Not Reason And Compare: My Business Is To Create.

The Spirits Of The Air Live On The Smells Of Fruit; And Joy, With Pinions Light, Roves Round The Gardens, Or Sits Singing In The Trees.

Love Seeketh Not Itself To Please, Nor For Itself Hath Any Care, But For Another Gives Its Ease, And Builds A Heaven In Hell's Despair.