As One's Gifts Increase, His Friends Decrease.

You Would Measure Time The Measureless And The Immeasurable. You Would Adjust Your Conduct And Even Direct The Course Of Your Spirit According To Hours And Seasons. Of Time You Would Make A Stream Upon Whose Bank You Would Sit And Watch Its Flowing.

A Shy Failure Is Nobler Than An Immodest Success.

Thinking Is Always The Stumbling Stone To Poetry.

Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter’s Oven?

For In Truth It Is Life That Gives Unto Life-while You, Who Deem Yourself A Giver, Are But A Witness.