The Same Heart Beats In Every Human

Saw Life Steadily And Saw It Whole.

We Do Not What We Ought; What We Ought Not, We Do; And Lean Upon The Thought That Chance Will Bring Us Through; But Our Own Acts, For Good Or Ill, Are Mightier Powers.

When Byron's Eyes Were Shut In Death, We Bow'd Our Head And Held Our Breath. He Taught Us Little; But Our Soul Had Felt His Like A Thunder Roll. . . . We Watch'd The Fount Of Fiery Life Which Serv'd For That Titanic Life.

For Poetry The Idea Is Everything; The Rest Is A World Of Illusion, Of Divine Illusion. Poetry Attaches Its Emotion To The Idea; The Idea Is The Fact. The Strongest Part Of Our Religion Today Is Its Unconscious Poetry.

Have Something To Say, And Say It As Clearly As You Can. That Is The Only Secret.