Worshippers Of Light Ancestral Make The Present

Ah, In This World, Where Every Guiding Thread Ends Suddenly In The One Sure Centre, Death, The Visionary Hand Of Might-have-been Alone Can Fill Desire's Cup To The Brim!

Some Day The Soft Ideal That We Wooed Confronts Us Fiercely, Foe-beset, Pursued, And Cries Reproachful: Was It Then My Praise, And Not Myself Was Loved? Prove Now Thy Truth; I Claim Of Thee The Promise Of Thy Youth.

There Is No Bore We Dread Being Left Alone With So Much As Our Own Minds.

Who Gives Himself With His Alms Feeds Three, Himself, His Hungering Neighbor And Me.

A Profound Common Sense Is The Best Genius For Statesmanship.