Not Gold, But Only Man Can Make

The Man In The Street Does Not Know A Star In The Sky.

Foolish Consistencies Are The Hobgoblins Of Small Minds!

Every Hero Becomes A Bore At Last.

Sooner Or Later That Which Is Now Life Shall Be Poetry, And Every Fair And Manly Trait Shall Add A Richer Strain To The Song.

Is It Not Better To Intimate Our Astonishment As We Pass Through This World If It Be Only For A Moment Ere We Are Swallowed Up In The Yeast Of The Abyss? I Will Lift Up My Hands And Say Kosmos.