Pan Is Dead! Great Pan Is Dead!

Mountain Gorses, Do Ye Teach Us . . . . That The Wisest Word Man Reaches Is The Humblest He Can Speak?

Our Euripides The Human, With His Droppings Of Warm Tears, And His Touchings Of Things Common Till They Rose To Meet The Spheres.

As The Moths Around A Taper, As The Bees Around A Rose, As The Gnats Around A Vapour, So The Spirits Group And Close Round About A Holy Childhood, As If Drinking Its Repose.

Measure Not The Work Until The Day's Out And The Labor Done.

A Good Neighbor Sometimes Cuts Your Morning Up To Mince-meat Of The Very Smallest Talk, Then Helps To Sugar Her Bohea At Night With Your Reputation.