Religion Is Ethics Heightened, Enkindled, Lit Up

Coldly, Sadly Descends The Autumn Evening. The Field Strewn With Its Dank Yellow Drifts Of Wither'd Leaves, And The Elms, Fade Into Dimness Apace, Silent; Hardly A Shout From A Few Boys Late At Their Play!

Culture Is To Know The Best That Has Been Said And Thought In The World.

Religion Is Ethics Heightened, Enkindled, Lit Up By Feeling

Sand-strewn Caverns, Cool And Deep, Where The Winds Are All Asleep; Where The Spent Lights Quiver And Gleam; Where The Salt Weed Sways In The Stream.

Ah, Love, Let Us Be True To One Another! For The World, Which Seems To Lie Before Us Like A Land Of Dreams, So Various, So Beautiful, So New, Hath Really Neither Joy, Nor Love, Nor Light, Nor Certitude, Nor Peace, Nor Help For Pain; And We Are Here As On A Darkling Plain Swept With Confused Alarms Of Struggle And Flight, Where Ignorant Armies Clash By Night.