Our Squalid Society Rushed, Narcissus To A

Forest, I Fear You! In My Ruined Heart Your Roaring Wakens The Same Agony As In Cathedrals When The Organ Moans And From The Depths I Hear That I Am Damned.

Progress, This Great Heresy Of Decay.

Comme L'imagination A Cre E Le Monde, Elle Le Gouverne. Because Imagination Created The World, It Governs It.

In Putting Off What One Has To Do, One Runs The Risk Of Never Being Able To Do It.

There Is No More Steely Barb Than That Of The Infinite.