"All governments, Books, customs, buildings, railways, ships, and all the stark realities that men have made, Are but imagination's utterances."
"And once I knew a meditative rose That never raised its head from bowing down, Yet drew its inspiration from the stars. It bloomed and faded here beside the road, And, being a poet, wrote on empty air With fragrance all the beauty of its soul."
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Source: Henry Abbey, “What Do We Plant?”
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