Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.
If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?