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“There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring [making music] to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls, But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.” — William Shakespeare
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring [making music] to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.