What Do I Owe My Father? Everything!

But This I Know. Those Who Seek Him Will Do Well To Look Among The Poor And The Lowly, The Sorrowful And The Oppressed.

A Peace That Depends On Fear Is Nothing But A Suppressed War.

Thou Warden Of The Western Gate, Above Manhattan Bay, The Fogs Of Doubt That Hid Thy Face Are Driven Clean Away: Thine Eyes At Last Look Far And Clear, Thou Liftest High Thy Hand To Spread The Light Of Liberty World-wide For Every Land.

Time Is: Too Slow For Those Who Wait, Too Swift For Those Who Fear.

I Heard Through The Nightthe Rush And The Clamour;the Pulse Of The Fightlike Blows Of Thor's Hammer;the Pattering Flightof The Leaves, And The Anguishedmoan Of The Forest Vanquished.