None But The Brave And Beautiful Can

Burn To Be Great, Pay Not Thy Praise To Lofty Things Alone. The Plains Are Everlasting As The Hills, The Bard Cannot Have Two Pursuits; Aught Else Comes On The Mind With The Like Shock As Though Two Worlds Had Gone To War, And Met In Air.

It Is Much Less What We Do Than What We Think, Which Fits Us For The Future.

The Temples Perish, But The God Still Lives.

Who Can Mistake Great Thoughts? They Seize Upon The Mind; Arrest And Search, And Shake It; Bow The Tall Soul As By Wind; Rush Over It Like A River Reeds.

The Course Of Nature Seems A Course Of Death, And Nothingness The Whole Substantial Thing.