The Archenemy Is The Arch Stupid!

These Arabs, The Man Mahomet, And That One Century, - Is It Not As If A Spark Had Fallen, One Spark, On A World Of What Proves Explosive Powder, Blazes Heaven-high From Delhi To Granada! I Said, The Great Man Was Always As Lightning Out Of Heaven; The Rest Of Men Waited For Him Like Fuel, And Then They Too Would Flame.

Neither Had Watt Of The Steam Engine A Heroic Origin, Any Kindred With The Princes Of This World. The Princes Of This World Were Shooting Their Partridges... While This Man With Blackened Fingers, With Grim Brow, Was Searching Out, In His Workshop, The Fire-secret.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such: It Is An Accident, Not A Property, Of A Man; Like Light, It Can Give Little Or Nothing, But At Most May Show What Is Given.

The Soul Gives Unity To What It Looks At With Love.

One Life; A Little Gleam Of Time Between Two Eternities; No Second Chance To Us For Evermore!