How Very Hard It Is To Be

I Hold That A Man Should Strive To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize.

Stung By The Splendour Of A Sudden Thought.

What I Aspired To Be And Was Not, Comforts Me.

God Is The Perfect Poet, Who In His Person Acts His Own Creations.

There Is An Inmost Center In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fullness;....and, To Know, Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Where The Imprisoned Splendor May Escape, Then In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.