His Face Was Filled With Broken Commandments.

All The Great Things Of Life Are Swiftly Done, Creation, Death, And Love The Double Gate. However Much We Dawdle In The Sun We Have To Hurry At The Touch Of Fate.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.

Life, A Beauty Chased By Tragic Laughter.

In The Dark Room Where I Began My Mother's Life Made Me A Man. Through All The Months Of Human Birth Her Beauty Fed My Common Earth. I Cannot See, Nor Breathe, Nor Stir, But Through The Death Of Some Of Her.

To Most Of Us The Future Seems Unsure. But Then It Always Has Been; And We Who Have Seen Great Changes Must Have Great Hopes.