I Cannot Forgive A Scholar His Homeless

I Ought To Go Upright And Vital, And Speak The Rude Truth In All Ways.

What You Do Thunders Above Your Head So Loudly, I Cannot Hear The Words You Speak.

Hitch Your Wagon To A Star.

The Beautiful Laws Of Time And Space, Once Dislocated By Our Inaptitude, Are Holes And Dens. If The Hive Be Disturbed By Rash And Stupid Hands, Instead Of Honey, It Will Yield Us Bees.

The World Looks Like A Multiplication-table, Or A Mathematical Equation, Which, Turn It How You Will, Balances Itself.