O Suffering, Sad Humanity! O Ye Afflicted

A Millstone And The Human Heart Are Driven Ever Round, If They Have Nothing Else To Grind, They Must Themselves Be Ground.

Love Gives Itself; It Is Not Bought.

I Shot An Arrow Into The Air, It Fell To Earth, I Knew Not Where.

Were Half The Power That Fills The World With Terror, Were Half The Wealth Bestowed On Camps And Courts, Given To Redeem The Human Mind From Error, There Were No Need Of Arsenals Or Forts.

Write On Your Doors The Saying Wise And Old, "be Bold! Be Bold!" And Everywhere - "be Bold; Be Not Too Bold!" Yet Better The Excess Than The Defect; Better The More Than Less; Better Like Hector In The Field To Die, Than Like A Perfumed Paris Turn And Fly.