Music Is The Medicine Of The Breaking

Nature, At All Events, Humanly Speaking, Is Manifestly Very Fond Of Color; For She Has Made Nothing Without It. Her Skies Are Blue; Her Fields, Green; Her Waters Vary With Her Skies; Her Animals, Vegetables, Minerals, Are All Colored. She Paints A Great Any Of Them In Apparently Superfluous Hues, As If To Show The Dullest Eye How She Loves Color.

The Fish Is Swift, Small-needing, Vague Yet Clear, A Cold, Sweet, Silver Life, Wrapped In Round Waves.

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature.

Whatever Evil Befalls Us, We Ought To Ask Ourselves... How We Can Turn It Into Good. So Shall We Take Occasion, From One Bitter Root, To Raise Perhaps Many Flowers.

We Must Regard All Matter As An Intrusted Secret Which We Believe The Person Concerned Would Wish To Be Considered As Such. Nay, Further Still, We Must Consider All Circumstances As Secrets Intrusted Which Would Bring Scandal Upon Another If Told.