Only The Drum Is Confident, It Thinks

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are Beautiful Beyond All Grace Of Youth.

You Making Haste On Decay: Not Blameworthy; Life Is Good, Be It Stubbornly Long Or Suddenly A Mortal Splendor: Meteors Are Not Needed Less Than Mountains: Shine, Perishing Republic.

Corruption Never Has Been Compulsory; When The Cities Lie At The Monster's Feet There Are Left The Mountains.

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful... ... The Wholeness Of Life And Things, The Divine Beauty Of The Universe. Love That, Not Man Apart From That, Or Else You Will Share Man's Pitiful Confusions, Or Drown In Despair When His Days Darken.