The Storm Is Master. Man, As A

A Virtuous Name Is The Precious Only Good, For Which Queens And Peasants' Wives Must Contest Together.

Every Man Stamps His Value On Himself... Man Is Made Great Or Small By His Own Will.

The Future Comes Slowly, The Present Flies And The Past Stands Still Forever.

The Empire Of Saturnus Is Gone By; Lord Of The Secret Birth Of Things Is He; Within The Lap Of Earth, And In The Depths Of The Imagination Dominates; And His Are All Things That Eschew The Light. The Time Is O'er Of Brooding And Contrivance, For Jupiter, The Lustrous, Lordeth Now, And The Dark Work, Complete Of Preparation, He Draws By Force Into The Realm Of Light. Now Must We Hasten On To Action, Ere The Scheme, And Most Auspicious Positure Parts O'er My Head, And Takes Once More Its Flight, For The Heavens Journey Still, And Adjourn Not.

It Is Only Through The Morning Gate Of The Beautiful That You Can Penetrate Into The Realm Of Knowledge. That Which We Feel Here As Beauty We Shall One Day Know As Truth.