We May Taste Of Every Turn Of

Man Doeth This And Doeth That From The Good Or Evil Of His Heart; But He Knows Not To What End His Sense Doth Prompt Him; For When He Strikes He Is Blind To Where The Blow Shall Fall, Nor Can He Count The Airy Threads That Weave The Web Of Circumstance. Good And Evil, Love And Hate, Night And Day, Sweet And Bitter, Man And Woman, Heaven Above And The Earth Beneath--all Those Things Are Needful, One To The Other, And Who Knows The End Of Each?

Time After Time Have Nations, Ay, And Rich And Strong Nations, Learned In The Arts, Been, And Passed Away To Be Forgotten, So That No Memory Of Them Remains. This Is But One Of Several; For Time Eats Up The Works Of Man.

How Can A World Be Good In Which Money Is The Moving Power, And Self-interest The Guiding Star?

Women Love The Last Blow As Well As The Last Word, And When They Fight For Love They Are Pitiless As A Wounded Buffalo.

We White People Think That We Know Everything.