The Day Is Committed To Error And

You Accuse A Woman Of Wavering Affections, But Don't Blame Her; She Is Just Looking For A Consistent Man.

The History Of Knowledge Is A Great Fugue In Which The Voices Of The Nations One After The Other Emerge.

We Must Not Hope To Be Mowers, And To Gather The Ripe Gold Ears, Unless We Have First Been Sowers And Water The Furrows With Tears. It Is Not Just As We Take It, This Mystical World Of Ours, Life's Field Will Yield As We Make It A Harvest Of Thorns Or Of Flowers.

Know'st Thou Yesterday, Its Aim And Reason? Work'st Thou Will Today For Worthier Things? Then Calmly Wait The Morrow's Hidden Season, And Fear Thou Not, What Hap Soe'er It Brings

Ignorant Men Raise Questions That Wise Men Answered A Thousand Years Ago.