Give Me An Ear And I Will

Pity The Nation Whose Statesman Is A Fox, Whose Philosopher Is A Juggler, And Whose Art Is The Art Of Patching And Mimicking. Pity The Nation That Welcomes Its New Ruler With Trumpetings, And Farewells Him With Hootings, Only To Welcome Another Ruler With Trumpetings Again. Pity The Nation Whose Sages Are Dumb With Years And Whose Strong Men Are Yet In The Cradle. Pity The Nation Divided Into Fragments, Each Fragment Deeming Itself A Nation.

Thinking Is Always The Stumbling Stone To Poetry.

Progress Lies Not In Enhancing What Is, But In Advancing Toward What Will Be.

I Sit Between My Brother The Mountain And My Sister The Sea. We Three Are One In Loneliness, And The Love That Binds Us Together Is Deep And Strong And Strange.

The Soul Unfolds Itself, Like A Lotus Of Countless Petals.