Man, One May Say, Was Never In

All Things Must; Man Is The Only Creature That Wills.

As Noble Art Has Survived Noble Nature, So Too She Marches Ahead Of It, Fashioning And Awakening By Her Inspiration. Before Truth Sends Her Triumphant Light Into The Depths Of The Heart, Imagination Catches Its Rays, And The Peaks Of Humanity Will Be Glowing When Humid Night Still Lingers In The Valleys.

Wine Invents Nothing; It Only Tattles.

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.

Not Without A Shudder May The Human Hand Reach Into The Mysterious Urn Of Destiny.