Culture Looks Beyond Machinery, Culture Hates Hatred;

Resolve To Be Thyself: And Know That He Who Finds Himself, Loses His Misery.

And That Sweet City With Her Dreaming Spires, She Needs Not June For Beauty's Heightening.

Six Years-six Little Years-six Drops Of Time.

On The Breast Of That Huge Mississippi Of Falsehood Called History, A Foam-bell More Or Less Is No Consequence.

And Thou, Who Didst The Stars And Sunbeams Know, Self-school'd, Self-scann'd, Self-honour'd, Self-secure, Didst Tread On Earth Unguess'd At. Better So! All Pains The Immortal Spirit Must Endure, All Weakness Which Impairs, All Griefs Which Bow, Find Their Sole Speech In That Victorious Brow.