The More A Thing Is Perfect, The

...everything That Is, Desires To Be. As We Act, We Unfold Our Being. Enjoyment Naturally Follows, For A Thing Desired Always Brings Delight.

O How Far Remov'd, Predestination! Is Thy Foot From Such As See Not The First Cause Entire: And Ye, O Mortal Men! Be Wary How Ye Judge: For We, Who See The Maker, Know Not Yet The Number Of The Chosen; And Esteem Such Scantiness Of Knowledge Our Delight: For All Good Is, In That Primal Good, Concentrate; And God's Will And Ours Are One.

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame.

"the Love Of God, Unutterable And Perfect, Flows Into A Pure Soul The Way Light Rushes Into A Transparent Object. The More Love That It Finds, The More It Gives Itself: So That, As We Grow Clear And Open, The More Complete The Joy Of Heaven Is. And The More Souls Who Resonate Together, The Greater The Intensity Of Their Love, And, Mirror Like, Each Soul Reflects The Other.

Not One Drop Of Blood Is Left Inside My Veins That Does Not Throb: I Recognize Signs Of The Ancient Flame.