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XXVII



Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear respose for limbs with travel tir\'d;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body\'s work\'s expired: 

For then my thoughts--from far where I abide--

Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,

And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,

Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul\'s imaginary sight

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

Which, like a jewel (hung in ghastly night,

Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.

  Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

  For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

 	--William Shakespeare

The Holy Ghost was working through me on this film, and I was just
direction traffic. Mel Gibson

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the
source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a
stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as
good as dead: his eyes are closed. --Albert Einstein