Nature Is An Aeolian Harp, A Musical

The Art Of Writing Books Is Not Yet Invented. But It Is At The Point Of Being Invented. Fragments Of This Nature Are Literary Seeds. There May Be Many An Infertile Grain Among Them: Nevertheless, If Only Some Come Up!

Nature Is A Petrified Magic City.

The World Must Be Romanticized. In This Way The Originary Meaning May Be Found Again.

Blood Will Stream Over Europe Until The Nations Become Aware Of The Frightful Madness Which Drives Them In Circles. And Then, Struck By Celestial Music And Made Gentle, They Approach Their Former Altars All Together, Hear About The Works Of Peace, And Hold A Great Celebration Of Peace With Fervent Tears Before The Smoking Altars.

Darwin Remarks That We Are Less Dazzled By The Light At Waking, If We Have Been Dreaming Of Visible Objects. Happy Are Those Who Have Here Dreamt Of A Higher Vision! They Will The Sooner Be Able To Endure The Glories Of The World To Come.