The Lust Of The Goat Is The

One Power Alone Makes A Poet: Imagination. The Divine Vision.

When The Stars Threw Down Their Spears, And Watered Heaven With Their Tears, Did He Smile His Work To See? Did He Who Made The Lamb Make Thee?

It Is Easier To Forgive An Enemy Than To Forgive A Friend.

Then My Verse I Dishonor, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade And My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; And My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame.

Improvement Makes Strait Roads, But The Crooked Roads Without Improvement, Are Roads Of Genius.