Authors Must Not, Like Chinese Soldiers, Expect

No Action, Whether Foul Or Fair, Is Ever Done, But It Leaves Somewhere A Record, Written By Fingers Ghostly, As A Blessing Or A Curse, And Mostly In The Greater Weakness Or Greater Strength Of The Acts Which Follow It.

I Will Be A Man Among Men; And No Longer A Dreamer Among Shadows.

I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day Their Old, Familiar Carols Play, And Wild And Sweet The Words Repeat Of Peace On Earth, Good-will To Men!

So Nature Deals With Us, And Takes Away Our Playthings One By One, And By The Hand Leads Us To Rest.

Good-night! Good-night! As We So Oft Have Said Beneath This Roof At Midnight, In The Days That Are No More, And Shall No More Return. Thou Hast But Taken Up Thy Lamp And Gone To Bed; I Stay A Little Longer, As One Stays To Cover Up The Embers That Still Burn.