We say God and the imagination are one... How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Life is the elimination of what is dead.
Realism is a corruption of reality.
The imperfect is our paradise.
The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.
Death is the mother of Beauty; hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.