By A Divine Paradox, Wherever There Is

At The Heart Of The Cyclone Tearing The Sky Is A Place Of Central Calm.

Defeat May Serve As Well As Victory To Shake The Soul And Let The Glory Out. When The Great Oak Is Straining In The Wind, The Boughs Drink In New Beauty And The Trunk Sends Down A Deeper Root On The Windward Side. Only The Soul That Knows The Mighty Grief Can Know The Mighty Rapture, Sorrows Come To Stretch Out Spaces In The Heart For Joy.

I Fear The Vermin That Shall Underminesenate And Citadel And School And Shrine.

It Is Better To Rust Out Than Wear Out.

Earth Is Enough. We Men Of Earth Have Here The Stuff Of Paradise - We Have Enough! We Need No Other Stones To Build The Temple Of The Unfulfilled - No Other Ivory For The Doors - No Other Marble For The Floors - No Other Cedar For The Beam And Dome Of Man's Immortal Dream. Here On The Paths Of Every-day - Here On The Common Human Way Is All The Stuff The Gods Would Take To Build A Heaven, To Mold And Make New Edens. Ours Is The Stuff Sublime To Build Eternity In Time!