Friendship, In The Old Heroic Sense Of

Laws, Written, If Not On Stone Tables, Yet On The Azure Of Infinitude, In The Inner Heart Of God's Creation, Certain As Life, Certain As Death, Are There, And Thou Shalt Not Disobey Them.

Is There No God, Then, But At Best An Absentee God, Sitting Idle, Ever Since The First Sabbath, At The Outside Of His Universe?

Do Nothing, Only Keep Agitating, Debating; And Things Will Destroy Themselves.

He Who Would Write Heroic Poems Should Make His Whole Life A Heroic Poem.

That Monstrous Tuberosity Of Civilised Life, The Capital Of England.