Certainly, It Is Heaven Upon Earth, To

All Good Moral Philosophy Is ... But The Handmaid To Religion.

I Would Like My Pictures To Look As If A Human Being Had Passed Between Them, Like A Snail, Leaving A Trail Of The Human Presence And Memory Trace Of Past Events, As The Snail Leaves Its Slime.

A Forbidden Writing Is Thought To Be A Certain Spark Of Truth, That Flies Up In The Face Of Them Who Seek To Tread It Out.

Such Is The Way Of All Superstition, Whether In Astrology, Dreams, Omens, Divine Judgments, Or The Like; Wherein Men, Having A Delight In Such Vanities, Mark The Events Where They Are Fulfilled, But Where They Fail, Though This Happen Much Oftener.

That Things Are Changed, And That Nothing Really Perishes, And That The Sum Of Matter Remains Exactly The Same, Is Sufficiently Certain.