Every Flower Is A Soul Blossoming In

The Enthusiasm Of Old Men Is Singularly Like That Of Infancy.

L'imagination M'apportait Des Délices Infinies. En Recouvrant Ce Que Les Hommes Appellent La Raison, Faudra-t-il Regretter De Les Avoir Perdues...? My Imagination Gave Me Infinite Delight. In Recovering What Men Call Reason, Do I Have To Regret The Loss Of These Joys?

Man, Do You Think Yours Is The Only Soul? Look Around You. Everything That You See Quivers With Being. Though Your Thoughts Are Free, One Thing You Do Not Think About: The Whole. Beasts Have A Mind; Respect It. Flowers Too- Look At One. Nature Brought Forth Each Petal. There Is A Mystery That Sleeps In Metal. Everything Feels, And Has Power Over You.

The First Moments Of Sleep Are An Image Of Death; A Hazy Torpor Grips Our Thoughts And It Becomes Impossible For Us To Determine The Exact Instant When The I, Under Another Form, Continues The Task Of Existence.

The Tree Of Knowledge Is Not The Tree Of Life! And Yet Can We Cast Out Of Our Spirits All The Good Or Evil Poured Into Them By So Many Learned Generations? Ignorance Cannot Be Learned.