Poverty Comes Pleading Not For Charity, For

And Silence, Like A Poultice, Comes To Heal The Blows Of Sound.

I Find The Great Thing In This World Is Not So Much Where We Stand, As In What Direction We Are Moving: To Reach The Port Of Heaven, We Must Sail Sometimes With The Wind And Sometimes Against It, But We Must Sail, And Not Drift, Nor Lie At Anchor.

Through Our Great Good Fortune, In Our Youth Our Hearts Were Touched With Fire. It Was Given To Us To Learn At The Outset That Life Is A Profound And Passionate Thing.

If I Were Dying, My Last Words Would Be: Have Faith And Pursue The Unknown End.

War? War Is An Organized Bore.