There Is No Comfort Looking Forth Nor

The Soul, At Peace, Reflects The Peace Without, Forgetting Grief As Sunset Skies Forget The Morning's Transient Shower.

Jews Are The Intensive Form Of Any Nationality Whose Language And Customs They Adopt.

Naught Is Too Small And Soft To Turn And Sting.

Not Like The Brazen Giant Of Greek Fame, With Conquering Limbs Astride From Land To Land; Here At Our Sea-washed, Sunset Gates Shall Stand A Mighty Woman With A Torch, Whose Flame Is The Imprisoned Lightning, And Her Name Mother Of Exiles.

My Own Curiosity And Interest Are Insatiable.