. . . The Weal Of The

The Much-sought Prize Of Eternal Youth Is Just Arrested Growth.

. . . The Weal Of The Race, And The Cause Of Humanity, Here And Now, Are Enough To Give Life Meaning And Death As Well.

Why, A Moral Truth Is A Hollow Tooth Which Must Be Propped With Gold.

This Is A Man With An Old Face, Always Old... There Was Pathos, In His Face, And In His Eyes. The Early Weariness; And Sometimes Tears In His Eyes, Which He Let Slip Unconsciously On His Cheek, Or Brushed Away With An Unconcerned Hand. There Were Tears For Human Suffering, Or For A Glance Into The Vast Futility Of Life, Which He Had Seen From The First, Being Old When He Was Born.

Did I Follow Truth Wherever She Led, And Stand Against The Whole World For A Cause, And Uphold The Weak Against The Strong? If I Did I Would Be Remembered Among Men.