Art Still Has Truth. Take Refuge There.

The World Hath Failed To Impart The Joy Our Youth Forebodes; Failed To Fill Up The Void Which In Our Breasts We Bear.

Nations Are Not Truly Great Solely Because The Individuals Composing Them Are Numerous, Free, And Active; But They Are Great When These Numbers, This Freedom, And This Activity Are Employed In The Service Of An Ideal Higher Than That Of An Ordinary Man Taken By Himself.

And That Sweet City With Her Dreaming Spires, She Needs Not June For Beauty's Heightening.

Creep Into Thy Narrow Bed, Creep, And Let No More Be Said!

Joy Comes And Goes, Hope Ebbs And Flows Like The Wave; Change Doth Unknit The Tranquil Strength Of Men. Love Tends Life A Little Grace, A Few Sad Smiles; And Then, Both Are Laid In One Cold Place, In The Grave.