A Man Is What He Thinks About

We Learn That God Is; That He Is In Me; And That All Things Are Shadows Of Him.

The Machine Unmakes The Man. Now That The Machine Is So Perfect, The Engineer Is Nobody.

The Poem Is A Confession Of Faith.

We Are Sure That, Though We Know Not How, Necessity Does Comport With Liberty, The Individual With The World, My Polarity With Thespirit Of The Times. The Riddle Of The Age Has For Each A Private Solution.

What Omniscience Has Music! So Absolutely Impersonal, And Yet Every Sufferer Feels His Secret Sorrow Soothed.