The Longing For Paradise Is Paradise Itself.

In The Depths Of Your Hopes And Desires, Lies Your Silent Knowledge Of The Beyond, And Like Seeds Dreaming Beneath The Snow, Your Heart Dreams Of Spring. Trust The Dreams, For In Them Is Hidden The Gate To Eternity.

Men Would Bless You Or Curse You; The Curse, A Protest Against Failure, The Blessing, A Hymn Of The Hunter Who Comes Back From The Hills With Provision For His Mate.

Art Is A Step From What Is Obvious And Well-known Toward What Is Arcane And Concealed.

Beauty Is Not A Need But An Ecstasy. It Is Not A Mouth Thirsting Nor An Empty Hand Stretched Forth, But Rather A Heart Enflamed And A Soul Enchanted.

Life Unfolds Itself In Mysteries Ways.