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Oracle of the Blessed Apple

Subject not your mind to the vast measures of the earth,
For the tree of truth grows not upon the earth.
Nor measure the measures of the sun,
Gathering together personal oracles:
They all move by the eternal will of the pattern,
Not for thy sake.

Or the swift course of the moon either:
She runs ever by the impulse of necessity.
Nor was the progression of the starts brought forth
For human sake.
The ethereal, brought-footed flight of ravens
Is ever virtuous!

And moreover the dissections of entrails and victims:
All these are toys—the supports of gainful cheats.
Fly far from these
If you intend to walk he blessed orchard lanes,
Where Virtue, Wisdom and Truth
Are the true fruits of the spirit.