Every Man Who Is Not An Artist

Dip Him In The River Who Loves Water.

Where Others See But The Dawn Coming Over The Hill, I See The Soul Of God Shouting For Joy.

Where Lambs Have Nibbled, Silent Moves The Feet Of Angels Bright; Unseen They Pour Blessing, And Joy Without Ceasing, On Each Bud And Blossom, And Each Sleeping Bosom.

Every Thing Possible To Be Believ'd Is An Image Of Truth.

Works Of Art Can Only Be Produc'd In Perfection Where The Man Is Either In Affluence Or Is Above The Care Of It.