My Words In Her Mind: Cold Polished

Wipe Your Glasses With What You Know.

A Wild Angel Had Appeared To Him, The Angel Of Mortal Youth And Beauty, An Envoy From The Fair Courts Of Life, To Throw Open Before Him In An Instant Of Ecstasy The Gates Of All The Ways Of Error And Glory.

Death, A Cause Of Terror To The Sinner, Is A Blessed Moment For Him Who Has Walked In The Right Path.

The Object Of The Artist Is The Creation Of The Beautiful. What The Beautiful Is Is Another Question.

When One Reads These Strange Pages Of One Long Gone One Feels That One Is At One With One Who Once.