Truth That Peeps Over The Glass's Edge

Women Hate A Debt As Men A Gift.

I Hold That A Man Should Strive To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize.

Talent Should Minister To Genius.

Oh, Good Gigantic Smile O' The Brown Old Earth, This Autumn Morning! How He Sets His Bones To Bask I' The Sun, And Thrusts Out Knees And Feet. From The Ripple To Run Over In Its Mirth

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.