For 'tis Not In Mere Death That

The Man, Most Man, Works Best For Men: And, If Most Man Indeed, He Gets His Manhood Plainest From His Soul.

My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains From Standing So Long On A Monument.

A Great Man Leaves Clean Work Behind Him, And Requires No Sweeper Up Of The Chips.

Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead! Pan, Pan Is Dead!

Behold Me! I Am Worthy Of Thy Loving, For I Love Thee!