If One Doesn't Know One's Own Country,

Wild Dreams Torment Me As I Lie. And Though A God Lives In My Heart, Though All My Power Waken At His Word, Though He Can Move My Every Inmost Part - Yet Nothing In The Outer World Is Stirred. Thus By Existence Tortured And Oppressed I Crave For Death, I Long For Rest.

What You Can Do, Or Think You Can, Begin It.

To Be Active Is The Primary Vocation Of Man.

Over All The Mountain Tops Is Peace. In All Treetops You Perceive Scarcely A Breath. The Little Birds In The Forest Are Silent. Wait Then; Soon, You Too, Will Have Peace.

Higher Yet And Higher Out Of Clouds And Night, Nearer Yet And Nearer Rising To The Light - Light, Serene And Holy Where My Soul May Rest, Purified And Lowly, Sanctified And Blest.