Music Fathoms The Sky.

We Are All Born Marked For Evil.

I Throw Fresh Seeds Out. Who Knows What Survives?

The Habit Of Doing One's Duty Drives Away Fear.

And Over Your Unconsecrated Head You'll Hear The Howling Wolves Lament Their Fate And Yours The Livelong Year.

To Say The Word Romanticism Is To Say Modern Art - That Is, Intimacy, Spirituality, Color, Aspiration Towards The Infinite, Expressed By Every Means Available To The Arts.