For Neither Man Nor Angel Can Discern

. . . For Beauty Stands In The Admiration Only Of Weak Minds Led Captive. Cease To Admire, And All Her Plumes Fall Flat And Shrink Into A Trivial Toy, At Every Sudden Slighting Quite Abash'd.

It Was From Out The Rind Of One Apple Tasted, That The Knowledge Of Good And Evil, As Two Twins Cleaving Together, Leaped Forth Into The World.

Such Bickerings To Recount, Met Often In These Our Writers, What More Worth Is It Than To Chronicle The Wars Of Kites Or Crows Flocking And Fighting In The Air?

The Sacred Influence Of Light Appears.

But Infinite In Pardon Is My Judge.