One Who Can See Without Seeming To

Soul's Castle Fell At One Blast Of Temptation, But Many A Worm Had Pierced The Foundation.

Fairies, Arouse! Mix With Your Song Harplet And Pipe, Thrilling And Clear, Swarm On The Boughs! Chant In A Throng! Morning Is Ripe, Waiting To Hear.

A Man Who Keeps A Diary Pays, Due Toll To Many Tedious Days; But Life Becomes Eventful—then, His Busy Hand Forgets The Pen. Most Books, Indeed, Are Records Less Of Fulness Than Of Emptiness.

History Of Ireland--lawlessness And Turbulency, Robbery And Oppression, Hatred And Revenge, Blind Selfishness Everywhere--no Principle, No Heroism. What Can Be Done With It?

I Always Get Back To The Question, Is It Really Necessary That Men Should Consume So Much Of Their Bodily And Mental Energies In The Machinery Of Civilized Life? The World Seems To Me To Do Much Of Its Toil For That Which Is Not In Any Sense Bread. Again, Does Not The Latent Feeling That Much Of Their Striving Is To No Purpose Tend To Infuse Large Quantities Of Sham Into Men's Work?