There Are Some Dead Who Are More

One Makes Mistakes; That Is Life. But It Is Never A Mistake To Have Loved.

Let Us Seek Truth Everywhere; Let Us Cull It Wherever We Can Find Its Blossom Or Its Seed. Having Found The Seed, Let Us Scatter It To The Winds Of Heaven. Where Ever It May Blow, It Will Germinate. There Is No Lack In This Wide Universe Of Souls That Will Form The New Ground.

The Artist Is The Compass Which, Through The Raging Of The Storm, Points Steadily To The North.

If There Is One Place On The Face Of The Earth Where All The Dreams Of Living Men Have Found A Home From The Very Earliest Days When Man Began The Dream Of Existence, It Is India. For More Than 30 Centuries, The Tree Of Vision, With All Its Thousand Branches And Their Millions Of Twigs, Has Sprung From This Torrid Land, The Burning Womb Of The Gods. It Renews Itself Tirelessly Showing No Signs Of Decay.

Most Men Are Essentially Dead By Thirty.