We Carry Within Us The Wonders We

Gardens Were Before Gardeners, And But Some Hours After The Earth.

There Is Something In Us That Can Be Without Us, And Will Be After Us, Though Indeed It Hath No History Of What It Was Before Us, And Cannot Tell How It Entered Into Us.

Men Have Lost Their Reason In Nothing So Much As Their Religion, Wherein Stones And Clouts Make Martyrs.

I Believe The World Grows Near Its End, Yet Is Neither Old Nor Decayed, Nor Will Ever Perish Upon The Ruins Of Its Own Principles.

Now With My Friend I Desire Not To Share Or Participate, But To Engross His Sorrows, That, By Making Them Mine Own, I May More Easily Discuss Them; For In Mine Own Reason, And Within Myself, I Can Command That Which I Cannot Entreat Without Myself, And Within The Circle Of Another.