I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

Do what you will this life's a fiction, And is made up of contradiction.

Active Evil is better than Passive Good.

When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree

Mysteries are not to be solved. They eye goes blind when it only wants to see why.

Dip him in the river who loves water.

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.