Not On One Strand Are All Life's

A Pattern Is Either Right Or Wrong...it Is No Stronger Than Its Weakest Point.

Forgetfulness Of Grief I Yet May Gain;in Some Wise May Come Ending To My Pain;it May Be Yet The Gods Will Have Me Glad!yet, Love, I Would That Thee And Pain I Had!

Earth, Left Silent By The Wind Of Night,seems Shrunken 'neath The Gray Unmeasured Height.

From Out The Throng And Stress Of Lies, From Out The Painful Noise Of Sighs, One Voice Of Comfort Seems To Rise: "it Is The Meaner Part That Dies."

So Long As The System Of Competition In The Production And Exchange Of The Means Of Life Goes On, The Degradation Of The Arts Will Go On; And If That System Is To Last For Ever, Then Art Is Doomed, And Will Surely Die; That Is To Say, Civilization Will Die.