For Through It All--above, Beyond It All--

The World Is A Kind Of Spiritual Kindergarten Where Millions Of Bewildered Infants Are Trying To Spell "god" With The Wrong Blocks.

To Some Will Come A Time When Change Itself Is Beauty, If Not Heaven.

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Love Must Have Wings To Fly Away From Love, And To Fly Back Again.

It Is Impossible To Understand The Economic System In Which We Are Living If We Try To Interpret It As A Rational Scheme.it Has To Be Understood As An Awkward Phase In A Continuing Process Of Historical Development.