O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?

The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.

Where the Scriptures speak, we speak; where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.

For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.

The being level speaks the language of art, music, color shape and pattern directly -- a language that requires no words -- is not limited by words -- nor does it have the specificity of words and thus cannot be broken onto parts that can be manipulated or analyzed by the intellect. It must be swallowed, whole not parsed, sorted and justified.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.