Our Acts Our Angels Are, For Good

Tyranny Is Yielding To The Lust Of The Governing.

O Great Corrector Of Enormous Times, Shaker Of O'er-rank States, Thou Grand Decider Of Dusty And Old Titles, That Healest With Blood The Earth When It Is Sick, And Curest The World O' The Pleurisy Of People.

Man Is His Own Star, And The Soul That Can Render An Honest And A Perfect Man, Commands All Light.

Ask How To Live? Write, Write, Write, Anything; The World's A Fine Believing World, Write News.

Come, Sing Now, Sing; For I Know You Sing Well; I See You Have A Singing Face.