Thought Takes Man Out Of Servitude, Into

Whatever Hath Been Written Shall Remain, Nor Be Erased Nor Written O'er Again; The Unwritten Only Still Belongs To Thee: Take Heed, And Ponder Well What That Shall Be.

Let The Dead Past Bury Its Dead!

All Are Architects Of Fate, Working In These Walls Of Time; Some With Massive Deeds And Great, Some With Ornaments Of Rhyme.

Hope Has As Many Lives As A Cat Or A King.

The Swallow Is Come! The Swallow Is Come! O, Fair Are The Seasons, And Light Are The Days That She Brings, With Her Dusky Wings, And Her Bosom Snowy White!