Deaf Rage That Hears No Leader.

Have Hope. Though Clouds Environs Now, And Gladness Hides Her Face In Scorn, Put Thou The Shadow From Thy Brow, - No Night But Hath Its Morn.

Have Love. Not Love Alone For One, But Man As Man They Brother Call; And Scatter Like The Circling Sun Thy Charities On All.

The Reason For You Complaint Lies, It Seems To Me, In The Constraint Which Your Intellect Imposes Upon Your Imagination. Here I Will Make An Observation, And Illustrate It By An Allegory. Apparently, It Is Not Good-and Indeed It Hinders The Creative Work Of The Mind-if The If The Intellect Examines Too Closely The Ideas Pouring In, As It Were, At The Gates.

The Jest Loses Its Point When He Who Makes It Is The First To Laugh.

Where There Is Much Freedom There Is Much Error.