Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
The new work of art does not consist of
making a living or producing an objet d'art or in self-therapy, but in finding a new soul.
The new era of spiritual creativity...and soul-making.
