Art Still Has Truth. Take Refuge There.

We, Peopling The Void Air, Make Gods To Whom To Impute The Ills We Ought To Bear; With God And Fate To Rail At, Suffering Easily.

Morality Represents For Everybody A Thoroughly Definite And Ascertained Idea: The Idea Of Human Conduct Regulated In A Certain Manner.

The "hairy Quadruped Furnished With A Tail And, Pointed Ears, Probably Arboreal In His Habits," This Good Fellow Carried Hidden In His Nature, Apparently, Something Destined To Develop Into A Necessity For Humane Letters.

The World Hath Failed To Impart The Joy Our Youth Forebodes; Failed To Fill Up The Void Which In Our Breasts We Bear.

And See All Sights From Pole To Pole, And Glance, And Nod, And Hustle By; And Never Once Possess Our Soul Before We Die.