Death: The Grand Perhaps.

But God Has A Few Of Us To Whom He Whispers In The Ear; The Rest May Reason And Welcome; 'tis We Musicians Know.

And I Have Written Three Books On The Soul, Proving Absurd All Written Hitherto, And Putting Us To Ignorance Again.

A Man In Armour Is His Armour's Slave.

Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth.

Escape Me? Never, Beloved! While I Am I, And You Are You.