Time Is Round, And It Rolls Quickly.

The Heart Unites Whatever The Mind Separates, Pushes On Beyond The Arena Of Necessity And Transmutes The Struggle Into Love.

What, Then Is Our Duty? It Is To Carefully Distinguish The Historic Moment In Which We Live And To Consciously Assign Our Small Energies To A Specific Battlefield. The More We Are In Phase With The Current Which Leads The Way, The More We Aid Man In His Difficult, Uncertain, Danger-fraught Ascent Toward Salvation.

Free Yourself From One Passion To Be Dominated By Another And Nobler One. But Is Not That, Too, A Form Of Slavery? To Sacrifice Oneself To An Idea, To A Race, To God? Or Does It Mean That The Higher The Model The Longer The Longer The Tether Of Our Slavery?

A Slave's Soul Has No Worth, My Brothers; It Lacks Strength To Tread On This Great Earth With Gallantry And Freedom. I Pity The Poor Slaves, They're Nought But Airy Mist, A Light Breeze Scatters Them, A Fragrance Knocks Them Down; It's Only Just They Crawl On The Earth On Hands And Knees. Today I'll Write A Hymn To God And Pray For This Great Grace.

Go As Far As You Can. Go Further Than You Can!