Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The

All Recurring Joy Is Pain Refined.

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

A Man Must Be Sacrificed Now And Again To Provide For The Next Generation Of Men.

When I Go Away From You The World Beats Dead Like A Slackened Drum.

On The Neck Of The Young Man Sparkles No Gem So Gracious As Enterprise. Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones.