Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels.

The strength of the genie comes from being in a bottle.

What is our praise or pride but to imagine excellence and try to make it? What does it say over the door of heaven; but, homo (sapiens) fecit?

Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray.

Whatever pains disease may bring Are but the tangy seasoning To Loves delicious fare.

The eye is pleased when nature stoops to art.

There is a poignancy in all things clear, In the stare of the deer, in the ring of a hammer in the morning. Seeing a bucket of perfectly lucid water We fall to imagining prodigious honesties.