There Is Nothing So Desperately Monotonous As

The Opening Of The First Grammar School Was The Opening Of The First Trench Against Monopoly In Church And State.

An Angel Stood And Met My Gaze, Through The Low Doorway Of My Tent; The Tent Is Struck, The Vision Stays; I Only Know She Came And Went.

The True Ideal Is Not Opposed To The Real But Lies In It; And Blessed Are The Eyes That Find It.

The Purely Great Whose Soul No Siren Passion Could Unsphere, Thou Nameless, Now A Power And Mixed With Fate.

Our American Republic Will Endure Only As Long As The Ideas Of The Men Who Founded It Continue Dominant.