Were It Not For Love, Poor Life

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Two Kinds Of Gratitude: The Sudden Kind We Feel For What We Take; The Larger Kind We Feel For What We Give.

For Through It All--above, Beyond It All-- I Know The Far-sent Message Of The Years, I Feel The Coming Glory Of The Light.

I Have Been Reading The Old Testament, A Most Bloodthirsty And Perilous Book For The Young. Jehovah Is Beyond Doubt The Worst Character In Fiction.

Pity Is Like A Knife, Sometimes, And It May Pierce One Who Employs It More Shrewdly Than The Victim It Would Save.