In Vain We Build The City If

Three Were The Fates. Poverty That Chains; Gray Drudgery That Grinds The Hope Away, And Gaping Ignorance That Starves The Soul.

It Is Better To Rust Out Than Wear Out.

Choices Are The Hinges Of Destiny.

The Crest And Crowning Of All Good, Life's Final Star, Is Brotherhood.

I (god) Will Leave Man To Make The Fateful Guess, Will Leave Him Torn Between The No And Yes, Leave Him Unresting Till He Rests In Me, Drawn Upward By The Choice That Makes Him Free, Leave Him In Tragic Loneliness To Choose, With All In Life To Win Or All To Lose.