. . . The Weal Of The

The Snows And The Roses Of Yesterday Are Vanished; And What Is Love But A Rose That Fades?

A Giant As We Hoped, In Truth, A Dwarf; A Barrel Of Slop That Shines On Lethe's Wharf', Which At First Seemed A Vessel With Sweet Wine For Thirsty Lips. So Down The Swift Decline You Went Through Sloven Spirit, Craven Heart And Cynic Indolence. And Here The Art Of Molding Clay Has Caught You For The Nonce And Made Your Shame Our Shame ~ Your Head In Bronze!

He Stripped Off The Armor Of Institutional Friendships To Dedictate His Soul To The Terrible Deities Of Truth And Beauty.

There Is No Marriage In Heaven, But There Is Love.

To Put Meaning In One's Life May End In Madness, But Life Without Meaning Is The Torture Of Restlessness And Vague Desire-it Is A Boat Longing For The Sea And Yet Afraid.