He Stripped Off The Armor Of Institutional

. . . The Weal Of The Race, And The Cause Of Humanity, Here And Now, Are Enough To Give Life Meaning And Death As Well.

This Is A Man With An Old Face, Always Old... There Was Pathos, In His Face, And In His Eyes. The Early Weariness; And Sometimes Tears In His Eyes, Which He Let Slip Unconsciously On His Cheek, Or Brushed Away With An Unconcerned Hand. There Were Tears For Human Suffering, Or For A Glance Into The Vast Futility Of Life, Which He Had Seen From The First, Being Old When He Was Born.

The Snows And The Roses Of Yesterday Are Vanished; And What Is Love But A Rose That Fades?

It Takes Life To Love Life.

The Typical American? He Is Sent To School Little Or Much, Where He Imbibes The Rule Of Safety First And Comfort; In His Youth He Joins The Church And Ends The Quest Of Truth.