The Bravest Are The Tenderest.

And The Bright Faces Of My Young Companions Are Wrinkled Like My Own, Or Are No More.

Our Ingress Into The World Was Naked And Bare; Our Progress Through The World Is Trouble And Care.

The Holiest Of Holidays Are Those Kept By Ourselves In Silence And Apart; The Secret Anniversaries Of The Heart.

Then Followed That Beautiful Season... Summer.... Filled Was The Air With A Dreamy And Magical Light; And The Landscape Lay As If New Created In All The Freshness Of Childhood.

All The Means Of Action -- The Shapeless Masses -- The Materials -- Lie Everywhere About Us. What We Need Is The Celestial Fire To Change The Flint Into The Transparent Crystal, Bright And Clear. That Fire Is Genius.