All Actual Heroes Are Essential Men, And

Art Is Much, But Love Is More.

Oh, The Little Birds Sang East, And The Little Birds Sang West.

What Is Art But The Life Upon The Larger Scale, The Higher. When, Graduating Up In A Spiral Line Of Still Expanding And Ascending Gyres, It Pushes Toward The Intense Significance Of All Things, Hungry For The Infinite?

I Love Thee Freely, As Men Strive For Right. I Love Thee Purely, As They Turn From Praise. I Love Thee With The Passion Put To Use

Many A Fervid Man Writes Books As Cold And Flat As Graveyard Stones.