Life Is A Loom, Weaving Illusion.

Oh, I Have Walked In Kansas Through Many A Harvest Field, And Piled The Sheaves Of Glory There And Down The Wild Rows Reeled: Each Sheaf A Little Yellow Sun, A Heap Of Hot-rayed Gold; Each Binder Like Creation's Hand To Mold Suns, As Of Old.

The Only Thing That A Man May Do That Is New, Is To Write Himself On Human Hearts.

You Can't Crush Ideas By Suppressing Them. You Can Only Crush Them By Ignoring Them.

Let Not Young Souls Be Smothered Out Before They Do Quaint Deeds And Fully Flaunt Their Pride.

Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo You, Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo You. Mumbo . . . Jumbo . . . Will . . . Hoo-doo . . . You.