When The Poet Died His Cat Was

Sameness Is The Mother Of Disgust, Variety The Cure.

Hitherto Your Eyes Have Been Darkened And You Have Looked Too Much, Yes, Far Too Much, Upon The Things Of Earth. If These So Much Delight You What Shall Be Your Rapture When You Lift Your Gaze To Things Eternal!

Where You Are Is Of No Moment, But Only What You Are Doing There. It Is Not The Place That Ennobles You, But You The Place, And This Only By Doing That Which Is Great And Noble.

Where Are The Numerous Constructions Erected By Agrippa, Of Which Only The Pantheon Remains? Where Are The Splendorous Palaces Of The Emperors?

From Thought To Thought, From Mountain Peak To Mountain. Love Leads Me On; For I Can Never Still My Trouble On The World's Well Beaten Ways.