Heat Cannot Be Separated From

Because There Is No Man Who Can Be True And Just Judge Of Himself, So Much Will Self-love Deceive Him.

O Power Of Fantasy That Steals Our Minds From Things Outside, To Leave Us Unaware, Although A Thousand Trumpets May Blow Loud--what Stirs You If The Senses Show You Nothing? Light Stirs You, Formed In Heaven, By Itself, Or By His Will Who Sends It Down To Us.

The Loser, When A Game Of Dice Is Done, Remains Behind Reviewing Every Roll Sadly, And Sadly Wiser, And Alone.

Pride, Envy, Avarice - These Are The Sparks Have Set On Fire The Hearts Of All Men.

To Run Over Better Waters The Little Vessel Of My Genius Now Hoists Her Sails, As She Leaves Behind Her A Sea So Cruel.