All Things Unrevealed Belong To The Kingdom

This World Of Sense, Built By The Imagination--how Fair And Foul It Is! Like A Fairy Island In The Sea Of Life, It Smiles In Sunlight And Sleeps In Green, Known Of The World Not By Communion Of Knowledge, But By Personal, Secret Discovery!

If Have Got My Spindle And My Distaff Ready--my Pen And Mind--never Doubting For An Instant That God Will Send Me Flax.

Blessed Is That Man Who Knows His Own Distaff And Has Found His Own Spindle.

Man's Record Upon This Wild World Is The Record Of Work, And Of Work Alone.

Idleness Is The Sepulchre Of A Living Man.