Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

More Matter With Less Art.

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

What Man Art Thou That, Thus Bescreened In Night, So Stumblest On My Counsel? *who Are You? Why Do You Hide In The Darkness And Listen To My Private Thoughts?*

The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air