Where Shall We Three Meet

Nay Then, Let The Devil Wear Black, For I'll Have A Suit Of Sables.

My Endeavors Have Ever Come Too Short Of My Desires. Yet Filed With My Abilities.

This Is A Gift That I Have, Simple, Simple; A Foolish Extravagant Spirit Full Of Forms, Figures, Shapes, Objects, Ideas, Apprehensions, Motions, Revolutions; These Are Begot In The Ventricle Of Memory, Nourished In The Womb Of Pia Mater, And Delivered Upon The Mellowing Of Occasion.

A High Hope For A Low Heaven: God Grant Us Patience!

Is Not The Truth The Truth?