The Experience Of This Sweet Life.

Everywhere Is Here And Every When Is Now.

No Man May Be So Cursed By Priest Or Pope But What The Eternal Love May Still Return While Any Thread Of Green Lives On In Hope.

…all Things Created Have An Order In Themselves, And This Begets The Form That Lets The Universe Resemble God.

Those Ancients Who In Poetry Presented The Golden Age, Who Sang Its Happy State, Perhaps, In Their Parnassus, Dreamt This Place. Here, Mankind's Root Was Innocent; And Here Were Every Fruit And Never-ending Spring; These Streams--the Nectar Of Which Poets Sing.

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.