My Future Will Not Copy My Fair

Some People Always Sigh In Thanking God.

What Is Art But The Life Upon The Larger Scale, The Higher. When, Graduating Up In A Spiral Line Of Still Expanding And Ascending Gyres, It Pushes Toward The Intense Significance Of All Things, Hungry For The Infinite?

Happy Are All Free Peoples, Too Strong To Be Dispossessed. But Blessed Are Those Among Nations Who Dare To Be Strong For The Rest!

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

The Charm, One Might Say The Genius, Of Memory Is That It Is Choosy, Chancy And Temperamental; It Rejects The Edifying Cathedral And Indelibly Photographs The Small Boy Outside, Chewing A Hunk Of Melon In The Dust.