Beware Of The Man Who Rises To

The Dust's For Crawling, Heaven's For Flying, Wherefore, O Soul, Whose Wings Are Grown, Soar Upward To The Sun!

Beware Of The Man Who Rises To Power From One Suspender.

How Shall The Soul Of A Man Be Larger Than The Life He Has Lived?

The Tongue May Be An Unruly Member-- But Silence Poisons The Soul.

This Is A Man With An Old Face, Always Old... There Was Pathos, In His Face, And In His Eyes. The Early Weariness; And Sometimes Tears In His Eyes, Which He Let Slip Unconsciously On His Cheek, Or Brushed Away With An Unconcerned Hand. There Were Tears For Human Suffering, Or For A Glance Into The Vast Futility Of Life, Which He Had Seen From The First, Being Old When He Was Born.