The Language Of The Street Is Always

The State Is Our Neighbors; Our Neighbors Are The State.

Love Not The Flower They Pluck And Know It Not, And All Their Botany Is Latin Names.

Everything Is Beautiful Seen From The Point Of The Intellect, Or As Truth. But All Is Sour If Seen As Experience.

Intellect Is A Fire; Rash And Pitiless It Melts This Wonderful Bone-house Which Is Called Man. Genius Even, As It Is The Greatestgood, Is The Greatest Harm.

As Sunbeams Stream Through Liberal Space And Nothing Jostle Or Displace, So Waved The Pine-tree Through My Thought And Fanned The Dreams It Never Brought.