Joys Impregnate. Sorrows Bring Forth.

If The Doors Of Perception Were Cleansed Everything Would Appear To Man As It Is, Infinite.

The Fox Condemns The Trap, Not Himself.

A Dog Starv'd At The Master's Gate Predicts The Ruin Of The State. A Horse Misus'd Upon The Road Calls To Heaven For Human Blood. Each Outcry Of The Hunted Hare A Fibre From The Brain Does Tear, A Skylark Wounded On The Wing, A Cherubim Does Cease To Sing.

If You Have Formed A Circle To Go Into,go Into It Yourself And See How You Would Do.

Where Lambs Have Nibbled, Silent Moves The Feet Of Angels Bright; Unseen They Pour Blessing, And Joy Without Ceasing, On Each Bud And Blossom, And Each Sleeping Bosom.