No Journey Is Too Great, When One

The Essence Of All Beautiful Art, All Great Art, Is Gratitude.

One's Own Self Is Well Hidden From One's Own Self; Of All Mines Of Treasure, One's Own Is The Last To Be Dug Up.

With Sturdy Shoulders, Space Stands Opposing All Its Weight To Nothingness. Where Space Is, There Is Being.

Art Is Essentially The Affirmation, The Blessing, And The Deification Of Existence.

What Do We Have In Common With The Rosebud, Which Trembles Because A Drop Of Dew Lies On Its Body?