Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For

You Throw The Sand Against The Wind And The Wind Blows It Back Again.

The Modest Rose Puts Forth A Thorn,the Humble Sheep A Threat'ning Horn:while The Lily White Shall In Love Delight,nor A Thorn Nor A Threat Stain Her Beauty Bright.

This Life's Dim Windows Of The Soul Distorts The Heavens From Pole To Pole And Leads You To Believe A Lie When You See With, Not Through, The Eye.

To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

Gratitude, In Itself, Is Heaven.