In The First Is The Last, In

But God Has A Few Of Us To Whom He Whispers In The Ear; The Rest May Reason And Welcome; 'tis We Musicians Know.

Paracelsus At Times I Almost Dream I Too Have Spent A Life The Sages’ Way, And Tread Once More Familiar Paths. Perchance I Perished In An Arrogant Self-reliance Ages Ago; And In That Act A Prayer For One More Chance Went Up So Earnest, So Instinct With Better Light Let In By Death, That Life Was Blotted Out — Not So Completely But Scattered Wrecks Enough Of It Remain, Dim Memories, As Now, When Once More Seems The Goal In Sight Again.

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe, All Were For Me, In The Kiss Of One Girl.

To Do Good Things In The World, First You Must Know Who You Are And What Gives Meaning To Your Life.