We Are The Prisoners Of Ideas.

The Charming Landscape Which I Saw This Morning Is Indubitably Made Up Of Some Twenty Or Thirty Farms. Miller Owns This Field, Locke That, And Manning The Woodland Beyond. But None Of Them Owns The Landscape. There Is Property In The Horizon Which No Man Has But He Whose Eye Can Integrate All Parts, That Is, The Poet. This Is The Best Part Of These Men's Farms, Yet To This Their Warranty-deeds Give No Title.

Men Talk As If Victory Were Something Fortunate. Work Is Victory.

The Religion Which Is To Guide And Fulfill The Present And Coming Ages, Whatever Else It Be, Must Be Intellectual. The Scientific Mind Must Have A Faith Which Is Science.

When It Is Darkest, We Can See The Stars.

Be Lord Of A Day, Through Wisdom And Justice, And You Can Put Up Your History Books.