The Eternal Stars Shine Out Again, So

Reality, If Rightly Interpreted, Is Grander Than Fiction.

In Books Lies The Soul Of The Whole Past Time; The Articulate Audible Voice Of The Past, When The Body And Material Substance Of It Has Altogether Vanished Like A Dream.

Close Thy Byron ; Open Thy Goethe .

We Arc The Miracle Of Miracles, The Great Inscrutable Mystery Of God.

Thou Fool! Nature Alone Is Antique, And The Oldest Art A Mushroom; That Idle Crag Thou Sittest On Is Six Thousand Years Of Age.