All Delays Are Dangerous In War.

What, Start At This! When Sixty Years Have Spread. Their Grey Experience O'er Thy Hoary Head? Is This The All Observing Age Could Gain? Or Hast Thou Known The World So Long In Vain?

To Take Up Half On Trust, And Half To Try, Name It Not Faith But Bungling Bigotry.

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind!

Thus All Below Is Strength, And All Above Is Grace.

Our Souls Sit Close And Silently Within, And Their Own Web From Their Own Entrails Spin; And When Eyes Meet Far Off, Our Sense Is Such, That, Spider-like, We Feel The Tenderest Touch.