The Country Is Not Priest-ridded, But Press-ridden.

If I Am Not Worth The Wooing, I Surely Am Not Worth The Winning!

Ah, To Build, To Build! That Is The Noblest Art Of All The Arts. Painting And Sculpture Are But Images, Are Merely Shadows Cast By Outward Things On Stone Or Canvas, Having In Themselves No Separate Existence. Architecture, Existing In Itself, And Not In Seeming A Something It Is Not, Surpasses Them As Substance Shadow.

And So We Plough Along, As The Fly Said To The Ox.

For Age Is Opportunity No Less Than Youth Itself, Though In Another Dress, And As The Evening Twilight Fades Away The Sky Is Filled With Stars, Invisible By Day.

What Seems To Us But Dim Funeral Tapers May Be Heaven's Distant Lamps.