Every Tear From Every Eyebecomes A Babe

My Brother Starv'd Between Two Walls,his Children's Cry My Soul Appalls

He Who Doubts From What He Sees Will Ne'er Believe, Do What You Please.

Prudence Is A Rich, Ugly, Old Maid Courted By Incapacity.

When The Doors Of Perception Are Cleansed, Men Will See Things As They Truly Are, Infinite.

My Mother Bore Me In The Southern Wild, And I Am Black, But O! My Soul Is White; White As An Angel Is The English Child, But I Am Black As If Bereaved Of Light.