He Who Has Not Looked On Sorrow

Art Arises When The Secret Vision Of The Artist And The Manifestation Of Nature Agree To Find New Shapes.

Be Like A Flower And Turn Your Face To The Sun.

Like Sheaves Of Corn It Gathers You Unto Itself. It Threshes You To Make You Naked. It Sifts You To Free You From Your Husks. It Grinds You To Whiteness. It Kneads You Until You Are Pliant. And Then It Assigns You To Its Sacred Fire, That You May Become Sacred Bread For God's Sacred Feast. All These Things Shall Love Do Unto You That You May Know The Secrets Of Your Heart, And In That Knowledge Become A Fragment Of Life's Heart.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked.

Conscience Is A Just But Weak Judge. Weakness Leaves It Powerless To Execute Its Judgment.