No Thought Which Ever Stirred A Human

Twere Too Absurd To Slight For The Hereafter The Todays Delight!

A Man In Armor Is His Armor's Slave.

Any Nose May Ravage With Impunity A Rose.

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.

In This World, Who Can Do A Thing, Will Not; And Who Would Do It, Cannot, I Perceive: Yet The Will's Somewhat — Somewhat, Too, The Power — And Thus We Half-men Struggle.