It Is A Strange Trade That Of

All True Work Is Sacred.

When The Oak Is Felled The Whole Forest Echoes With It Fall, But A Hundred Acorns Are Sown In Silence By An Unnoticed Breeze.

To Know, To Get Into The Truth Of Anything, Is Ever A Mystic Art, Of Which The Best Logic's Can But Babble On The Surface.

What The Light Of Your Mind, Which Is The Direct Inspiration Of The Almighty, Pronounces Incredible, That, In God's Name, Leave Uncredited. At Your Peril Do Not Try Believing That!

Nay, In Every Epoch Of The World, The Great Event, Parent Of All Others, Is It Not The Arrival Of A Thinker In The World?